FYI, there will be a lot of foreshadowing in this story. For bestiality, skip to the last paragraph – but if you want the lead-up, read on. Matt and his comrades had pitched their metaphorical tent outside Thai La-Ong 2 on King St. What is a metaphorical tent doing in this story? It’s unclear (unlike Matt’s vision, which was 20/20). Regardless, they were there to protest pressing (Nb. there will be some more physical “pressing” later in the piece – keep reading, reader) issues. Unimportantly, it was a Thursday. It was cloudy with a chance of meatballs. But not really. For balls of a different sort, read on.
The pressing issues were these: the presence of gluten in the restaurant’s noodles, the destruction to the environment caused by the reckless uprooting of vegetables so they could eventually find themselves in a chicken Pad Thai, and the increasingly extortionate prices of said CPT, which had recently escalated from $6 to $6.30. Also objectionable was the Western imperialism that caused Thai people to subject themselves to a deplorable range of English-language puns that belittled their proud heritage. Matt and his friends were frankly Thai-red of it. See? Disgusting. Thai-rrible. Just like the preceding non-sentence.
Also disgusting were some people’s closed-mindedness to bestiality. This wasn’t really related to the Thai protest, but why not, eh? Not only must you stand on something, if you’re going to stand up (mainly the ground), and also generally near something (unless you’re in the desert), but you have to stand for something, or even a range of things, loosely linked by ‘ideology’. A mounted policeman passed by, in order to maintain state control over the seven protesters. Besti-curious, and thinking about the important pan-sexuality issues raised by Senator Bernardi, Matt went over to caress the horse. His attraction to the horse was not physical, but intellectual. Their sex was brief, public, pubic, and equine. It wasn’t erotic. At all.
It ended abruptly, never to happen again, just like Horni Soit.