Of the South Thailanders, there is the aforementioned cat breeder. When he is not engaged in his contemptuous commerce with the dog breeder, which, as previously explained, threatens to destroy the very boundary between the two species, he is engaged in a mad quest to selectively breed larger and larger domestic felines. To what end you may ask? Well, he wonders to himself, at every waking and unwaking moment,
“What if a cat were as big as a tiger?”
And though he does not necessarily know the answer to this question, he knows that whatever answer there is must be Bad-Ass, and thus he toils in pursuit of breeding a tiger-sized cat breed. Every generation of house cat he breeds is more muscular, more robust, more sizely. Through the gaps in the crumbling concrete retaining walls which enclose his breeding grounds, his abode a mad lair of feline meows and hisses, walls which are dirty, destitute, and look as though they may burst at any moment, unleashing a torrent of grotesque feline experiments upon an unsuspecting world, one sees cats larger than ever seen before, growing with each pass. One day, he will finally breed the generation which will bring forth the Tiger-Sized Housecat, and it will surely be Bad-Ass.
Of the South Thailanders, there is a man who’s veins are filled with the poison of darkness, and his eyes see the doom of his soul. In the solitude of his home, hate simmers within him. His fingers pry a small crack in his thick, opaque curtains through which he vindictively watches the outside world, plotting some grand spectacle of tragic revenge. Revenge for some wrong, one he cannot specifically name, but a wrong that he can feel has occurred, a wrong that has embedded itself deep within him. Perhaps it was that he was cursed to be born, or that he was cursed to be alone, or even that he was cursed to be angry at the world, but whatever it was, he believed that it was a wrong nonetheless, and a wrong that must be righted through some grand violent vengeance. And so he watched from behind the curtain, one vindictive eye peering through the window, and when that eye became strained and tired, he would shuffle over such that the other eye may peer, allowing the exhausted eye to rest. When both eyes were spent, he would retire away from the window into his dark home, doing something or the other. No one, not even he knew what he would do when he was alone, which was nearly all the time. Despite all his concern with vengeance, he surely wasn’t plotting some scheme or attack through which to attain his vengeance on the world. No, he simply was too angry, to agitated to be able to think of a plan. All he could do was spite, quietly, from behind the walls of his plain, unassuming house.
Of the South Thailanders, there is a straight hustler. A true G. A real one. He spends his days posted on the block of his hood, Straight Swagged Up, donning the freshest drip. Coogi sweaters on his torso worn, True Religion Jeans upon his legs adorned, Saggin’, Ice upon his wrist gleaming, Cuban Chain upon his neck shining, decorated with Diamonds sparkling (cubic zirconia). From a bluetooth speaker fastened to his counterfeit Gucci leather belt can be heard the continuous booming of gangsta rap, Tupac, Big Pun, Fat Joe, Wu Tang, DMX, Biggie, and the like. The backing track of a real G. He often hung at the corner opposite the plain, unassuming house of the previous South Thailander, the one who’s veins are filled with the poison of darkness and so on etc. and whatever else was said then. Unfortunately for our straight hustler, the aforementioned’s fervent peering and spite imparted a curse of the Evil Eye upon him. Luckily for our straight hustler, his pure Swag had rendered him immune to the spite and envy of others, and whatever curses may come of them, Evil Eye or otherwise. Brothas may be trifling, straight hating on a Real Playa, but all he had on his mind was getting this money, C.R.E.A.M., Dolla Dolla Billz Yall. Yet, despite all his thoughts, words, and appearances, he actually had very little money, as his days were mostly spent idly loitering around his neighborhood, though that never seemed to bother him. When he deemed that he had stunted on the ave enough for one day, and the sun began to set, he made his way home, where he knew that the tender affection of his dear mother and a warm meal awaited him.
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