This avuncular stranger, a member of the parliament and the former governor of Pattaya, had informed Kumpee that the fair held in March was coming to a close this year. This fair, run by government ministries to raise funds for the Red Cross, was near the Parliament in the area called Dusit. Tickets to enter were sold at 200 baht each. The two other brothers--all, like him, boys with layers of manhood like aluminum foil wrapped over the small crumbling pieces of cake that were themselves-did not utter questions. Had Kazem robbed Thai Farmers Bank, Siam Commercial, and Bangkok Bank entirely it wouldn't have made any difference. The psyche needed a degree of ebullience. This was their respite from worries about survival to which drugs or snookers had been ineffective distractions. A bit of it insulated them from the attitude of doom that would eagerly zip them up into its body bags. A woman wearing a pointed straw hat, who had a 2-year-old baby cuddled around her neck, thrust herself before them. She solicited them to her table of snake blood refreshments seasoned with dried monkey brain. She was one well-seasoned in salesmanship. She knew the cajolery to lure daredevils who would come to such a fair as she knew the approach to children whom she would sell her krathongs, banana boats of flowers and candles attached to banana leafs and Styrofoam sailed onto the river for good fortune during each Loi krathong festival, or Buddhist rosaries and necklaces to old women during religious holidays. " Please come over to my table, boys." They smiled and came. " I know you. You think I don't but I do. I can see into hearts-hearts wanting to be men, wanting to end boyhood. You've heard those stories about men who became more than that from drinking a bit of this. The stories aren't true. They are stupid. Nobody has ever done anything like that; but the real parts of the stories are gaining courage and strength. My husband was in his teens when I saw him for the first time doing what you are about to do. I watched him the way those girls over there are watching you now. Anybody would have second thoughts about this. Anybody would. It tastes horrible because it is strong in courage and strength for those with the courage to drink it. If you can do this you will never run away from anything again. Instead, you will have it on the run. This is your only time to conquer your fears and do something naughty while the police are sleeping. Whatever you do, make sure that you put a few coins in the box to help the Red Cross." She pointed at the plastic box at a distant corner of the table. While Suthep inserted a few baht into the hole she directed herself to Kazem. "Are those two your brothers?" "Yes," he said. "I know you won't make them ashamed of you. It's just fifty baht each. Look. People are staring at you. You've got to do it. Drink!" "Drink, money man," reiterated Suthep. He glared at Suthep. "Hey, I'm not paying for me alone. I'll do it for the pure pleasure of seeing you stand there all night looking into your cup." Kazem paid for three cups. Jatupon stood there stiff and frightened. Starting from the oldest to the youngest they drank down their beverages. The liquid molecules of hell were a hundred times that of the airborne ones from Kumpee's socks and shoes. All of them choked and coughed. All of them swallowed some of the blood heathenishly but spit out most. It was followed by a sip of watery and caffeinated whiskey that had been diluted and adulterated in cola. Normally such open liquor drinking would have gotten everyone arrested especially when it involved selling to minors but since some of the proceeds were going into the public fund on this day it was overlooked. While the brothers were given a second shot of whiskey again diluted in cola, new customers came to the woman anxiously. She led them to her table and sat there with the squalling, squalid child. The baby was restless on the apron that she wore. Conscious of how a repetition of her spiel could spell out insincerity and a customer's aversion, she attempted to wait silently as they debated doing this. She muted the child with a firm hand pressed against its mouth. Before she could make the sell she reflexively responded to the smallest degree of wetness on the apron and let her child urinate away from the sidewalk and her virility stand. The ground did not eagerly swallow the fetid and sweet liquid and his recidivist urine came back to the sidewalk with the insistence of a foul stream. Past shoe salesmen on a sheet, shoe repairmen, comb and battery salesmen, noodle workers, and lottery representatives-- unlicensed businesses that abounded everywhere- they entered the gates of the fair.