As he walked with his brothers and the "Chinawoman" through the heat and smoke of the sidewalk restaurants, he remembered having been very hot the previous night and how he had felt so miserably trapped under the mosquito net like a fish in the web and snare of its net. He was sick but it did not last for very long. According to his memory this strange entity as large as himself shuffled under the net from one corner to the next and the sickness of his stomach was replaced by a queasy and tightening horror while he cowered in the embrace of his legs. Thinking himself in a net where there was no extrication he experienced the adrenalin of bravado. He wanted to confront his fears. Trying to reach for a religion to formulate a rational perspective in the irrational, he argued that the snare outside had to be less poignant than the snare of gluttonous appetites that were the cell, the bunk, and the chained wall within the underground prison that was he. This mosquito evoked in him, or he invoked in himself, such trepidation that he imagined an equal: prehistoric peoples of Thailand watching their halcyon harmony with nature execrably disparaged in the vehement winds of a hurricane--the trees along the river, which had offered protection now torn and lethally slapped at them. The mosquito landed, crawled, and looked at the bodies on the floor. "Everyone is separated out into little forts. The others are under two different nets," it flared its voice in a quasi-question without looking at Jatupon's face. "Who are these creatures?" it asked. "My brothers" "There's one woman," it said pugnaciously. "They can't all be your brothers. Let's have an inventory. Be specific!" "My eldest brother's friend and my brother, Kazem, are under one tent. My brother, Kumpee, and his girlfriend are in a second tent. My brother, Suthep, is here with me." "And you I know. Don't you think this is a bit overdone: three forts around a few microscopic insects?" Jatupon opened his mouth but failed to say anything. Then he closed his mouth in fear of an insect flying into it. "At any rate, why isn't one tent used throughout the room." "I don't know. I didn't ask." "Aren't you a little dummy," it said. "Considering the fact that one large tent spread throughout the room would be a more economical investment than three smaller ones, one would think that you would care to inquire about it logically." "We aren't renting them. They are the host's and it would be impolite to ask such questions." "'They are the host's and it wouldn't be polite to ask those questions,'" it mocked. "You are so Thai through and through: one dummy in a nation of dummies. Here, let me look at this dummy." After a thorough examination of Suthep's body like a doctor or a depraved sexual stalker, it turned away from the one sleeping and spoke Jatupon's disparaging nickname of "Jatuporn" disdainfully. Then it told him that he and it would be playing cards. It shuffled its body from corner to corner and then shuffled the cards. One card became thwarted and dislodged from the uniform movement. It flipped face up and showed a still life of his parents who were expressionless as mannequins. They were a couple of a dark pigment (he from birth and she with her Chinese skin all burnt and wrinkled brown). She was naked but wearing a hair net and he was without his usual cap but was wearing a loincloth that had been soiled by his weekend work in the rice fields in the rural outskirts of the city. The mosquito quickly buried the card into the others face down. "Lets talk of them, the ashes that they be. They make up one of two groups of people in your life and these categories of individuals need to be discussed." "Why are you crying?" "Seeing them makes me miss them. They died in a horrible accident." "Accidents abound." " We had to burn their bodies." "That's done. You don't want them rotting in the streets. From what I heard, they made excellent firewood in the incinerator. What is there to cry about? They fulfilled the quest of their lives. It was the only decent thing they ever did: becoming a fireball. What is there to cry about?" "They are gone. They were my parents and I loved them." "You are sorry for the pain they experienced. I suppose that is decent of you; but most of that love is just like not questioning why there are three nets in this room instead of one. You, Thais, are so subservient to your cultural definitions of right and wrong. What silly things you all are. You are specifically foolish having the loyalty of a dog that is kicked, fed, and comes back for more. You are too Thai. It is absolutely sickening." It again glanced at Suthep. "Tell me about this one on the mat with you.