Bump in the Night

This time, it wasn't the mosquitoes that woke me. It was heavy footsteps, thudding closer. Two Malaysian men knocked aside my hotel's door, sending a cone of white light towards my eyes.  It was 4:40 am, at the Sakura Inn, Jerantut.

"Shit." I mumbled, sliding under the covers. That's right. My first reaction to strangers in my room was the same reaction I gave when Mom used to wake me up for school. Get more sleep.

They stared at me.  The mustachioed one glared. He looked like Pancho Villa. He glared past me, then at my backpack, then my Ipod. He nodded to his partner, a Ringo looking guy.

"Turn on the lights!" Pancho barked. He cocked his ear at the dripping faucet in the bathroom. "Who's in there? Anyone in there?" He motioned for Ringo to check.

"What's the fuck," I asked – too tongue-tied to say much.

"You sure no one in here?" Pancho was pissed. I didn't want Pancho to be pissed. Was I in a reality show? Were they going to sodomize me? Rob me? Have a drink?

"No one here," I croaked.

They left as they came. Pancho flipped off the lights and strode out. My adrenaline dragged me by the throat to the door in their wake, just in time to see Ringo's fingers punching the lock on the knob.  His buddy's voice trailed in through the closing space, "Next time, lock your door!"

Boy, was I in a weirded state.