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When you write a lot, you get many odd search results you can turn into an even stranger story…
Below is a story from the last few search results and written from the jungle office above….
A dirty Dutch man in Guangzhou, China prepares for a trip to Africa where he hopes to visit the Ngorongoro Crater and do a safari in Kruger National Park. He is tired of writing his living in Amsterdam blogs which discuss Amsterdam coffee shops and the like. Instead his mind is in Porto, Portugal while he pulls a small slimy piece of sausage from his mustache and googles “if I take malaria pills will i get malaria?”
He begins to slowly lick his filthy fingers while he savors the sausage he mined from his mustachio (sic) with his overgrown and discolored thumbnail. This sausage gives him flashbacks of food in Tanzania and eating a shawarma with a spoon while burning his back at the Dead Sea, Jordan. His mischievous mind marvels as memories of Lagos Portugal, Thai horror stories, Krakow Nightlife, Amsterdam Red Light District, Odessa Ukraine nightlife and Madrid girls flash before him in an eerie vividness.
He realizes he must leave China as he’s been there too long, he has dirty feet and has bed bug feces on sheets. This is the recipe for partying in Prague or googling “what is the best party place in November?” Itchy from his less than sanitary sleeping arrangements he clears his mind by strolling to a china shopping mall where he dines on street dogs wishing he was at Caru cu bere in Romania or eating namtok in Bangkok.
After returning to his rats nest aka dive of an apartment, he ponders why is sugar called white poison and life without electricity. Tired from a long day of scratching and thinking, he falls asleep on soiled sheets. His dreams take him to an ancient forest where he eats a still beating king cobra heart before attending a Vegan Awards Night at some “vegitarian restaurany address in battu caves”. While seeing these people praise each other over bean dips and tofu his mind wanders once more to thoughts of drinking blood, Chinook salmon and the crazy things people do for money.
He awakes abruptly and gasps for air in his dimly lit cobweb infested cubicle as his boss puts his filthy hand on his left shoulder leaving a stain and says “try and get it together Arnoud, it is only 11am!!” As Arnoud’s boss walks away he wipes the drool from his chin with the sleeve of one of his grotesque work sweaters he hasn’t washed in years. Obviously annoyed, Arnoud gets back to his Dutch equivalence of TPS reports while suffering severe indigestion from last night’s sauerkraut and sausages as his bloated belly overhangs his belt.
The lights dim as Arnoud sips a cold coffee while muttering incoherent nonsense to himself.
P.S: Check the links in the story and if you wanna get out there, stop dreaming like Arnoud!