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Late Night Forex Trading With Shorty Long

-- by Stubby Candles

It was a steamy, range-bound night in the Asian session and the crackle of the pink neon sign outside the window was driving me crazy. I'd have shut it but the sweaty office air felt like bad breath in a spacesuit and, besides, I needed the oxygen.

I hadn't slept since the New York open and fatigue was settling in like the brown haze that blanketed the street below. I was in my twelfth straight hour of trading, the result of an FOMC announcement that had sent a euro position veering out of control like a Mack truck on a slippery downgrade. So here I was in the middle of the night, working on my sixth cup of coffee, surviving on Cheetos and Cheez Whiz and still looking for an exit ramp.

My resistance must have retested a new low because the congestion I was experiencing at the head and shoulders made my concentration feel like a spinning top. It was three months since Blanche had left me. Said she wasn't getting what she needed so she traded me in for a guy with a bigger hard drive and more RAM.

The market was making me sweat and the heat wasn't helping. I had no sooner removed my shorts than there was a knock on the door. It was that oriental dame I had spotted a little earlier at the sushi bar at that joint over on Channel Street. Said her name was Ichimoku. She was a real knockout, poured into a tank top and a slit skirt with one leg out, which immediately reminded me to close part of my open position and keep at least one eye on the screen.

But it wasn't easy. She advanced into my spread in a long trending move that often led to a bullish engulfing pattern. I didn't dare stand up so I just said, 'Hello, Sister, what can I do for you?.' Word had gotten around that I was teaching Forex trading and the locals were starting to take an interest once they realized there was life beyond the ringit.

She took a long slow drag on a Camel and said she needed bigger pips. I thought she was doing OK in that department already, which reminded me to take a deep breath and expand my margin. Said she had a yen for a new life free from the drudgery as receptionist at the Evening Star Cafe and could I help?

This dame gave new definition to peaks and troughs. If she learned how to trade like she looked she'd own the market in a month. She smiled as she perched on the corner of my desk and I couldn't help but notice a nice double bottom formation that reminded me I'd better put my shorts back on.

I wanted to cover my exposed position but the action started to spike, indicating a beautiful real body with a nice tail and I couldn't help thinking that Blanche had never made me feel this way.

She bent over to take a closer look as price plunged deeply with no visible means of support. I knew I needed to get my eyes back on my trades which were now bouncing around like balls on a billiard table.

I nonchalantly stepped out from behind my trading desk and took her hand. She asked if that was a candle in my pants or if I was just happy to see her, but I knew she wasn't as tough as she looked. It was all just a facade. Her hand was shaking and she started to weep.

'Every time I think the MACD is showing positive divergence on an overbought stochastic and I get a nice close above a significant pivot point, price reverses on me and pulls back to the breakout. So I panic and close my position, only to have it go right where I thought it would in the first place. I'm so frustrated. I need a man who knows how to get in and out without prematurely exiting his position. Can you teach me?'

Boy, could I ever. If there was one thing I was qualified for in this world, it was to teach this dame how to extend her trades into a series of continuation patterns until she had hit her limits and exhausted all of her moves. Once her emotions were wrung out, she might be able to concentrate on her trading.

It was another night in the big city. Tomorrow I could sleep, but tonight I've got to take care of Ichimoku. It's a tough job being a Forex instructor, but somebody's gotta' do it.