LitWit Challenge 3.12: Conversations in restaurants
We sent Patrice Olivier a link to his Jock With A Book feature. His reply: “That’s cool that i have fans, i just can’t believe it but it makes me smile.” Shall we make him smile some more?
Dialogue is tricky, as previous LitWit Challenges have shown us. Dialogue must convey something of the speaker’s character and mental state, and still have the rhythm of “real” speech.
This week’s assignment: Write a story in the form of a dialogue. In 1,000 words, preferably less, invent a conversation in a restaurant with the young man in these photos. Imagine that we, the readers, are sitting at the next table, overhearing the conversation. Post your stories in Comments and the Yucch-meter will read them.
If you have any questions about these instructions we do not care to hear them. Just write your story and send it in; we always make exceptions for good stuff.
The winner of LitWit Challenge 3.12 will receive this set of books by our favorite writer of dialogue, J.D. Salinger.
It’s the Glass Family cycle: Nine Stories, Franny and Zooey, and Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters/Seymour.
We will accept your entries until Tuesday, 30 November 2010 at 11.59 pm.
The Weekly LitWit Challenge is brought to you by our friends at National Bookstore.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
November 23rd, 2010 at 13:15
Yay for J. D. Salinger books! Will do my best to submit an entry :) Eeeeee, Franny and Zooey!!!
And oh, bonjour Patrice!
Jessica, your “ward” looks smashingly fresh in those photos :) Parang bagong Johnson’s baby powder lang! (at siyempre, batang bata siya sa paningin ko haha). He does have that “star” quality in him (though I still cringe at the thought of seeing him guesting in local variety shows T_T).
November 23rd, 2010 at 13:31
brewhuh23: “Ward”—I feel like Bruce Wayne.
If he were not so tall, and if J.D. Salinger had not expressly forbidden film adaptations, he could play Zachary Martin Glass (Zooey).
November 23rd, 2010 at 14:44
jessica — I couldn’t think of a word haha. About Zooey, now that you’ve mentioned it, yesssss!
I miss this book (one of those borrowed books that never came back to me. Books, come back! I take much better care of you than my horrid ex-friends). I should have a safe for ALL my books, especially the ones you wrote ’cause they are, in the words of my nephew, “nakaw-able”.
November 23rd, 2010 at 15:07
Me: Hey Patrice, are you listening, I’m talking about the new exercise regimen my trainer gave me at the gym this afternoon.
Patrice: Sorry, I have to answer this text.
Me: So I have to do sit-ups for 48 minutes, and he said that I should do more abs work-out, which I have been asking him for months now. Ugh, I hate that guy. I pay him 10 thousand pesos a month and he doesn’t listen. I tell him again and again, I want to develop my abs more. But all he does is me focus on my upper body which is infuriating since I know I have the best chest in the gym.
Patrice: I think your chest looks great.
Me: Aww.. Thanks, I’m so glad you noticed. Anyway, so he finally gave me this program today and I tried it. It was difficult I tell you.
Patrice: What is?
Me: The program for my abs. Gawd, I’ve never perspired so much in my life. It’s probably one of my greatest achievements, to have completed it this afternoon for one whole hour. One whole hour, imagine that!
Patrice: Do you want to order dessert?
Me: No thanks. I’m in this strict diet that allows no carbs, or anything that grows on soil. So basically I drink water and eat egg whites. They don’t grow on soil, right?
Patrice: I’m pretty sure they don’t. What do you think?
Me: I don’t know. I will ask the trainer tomorrow. I pay him so much and he is supposedly certified, so he must know that stuff. I’m also not allowed to sleep on my back. It sort of slackens the abdominal muscle. It’s pure science, I tell you.
Patrice: Ah, really. That’s interesting.
Me: I know. Those trainers are men of science. They develop regimens not even Einstein could think of.
Patrice: They must be. Hold on, let me just text me friend so I can get out of here.
Me: What?
Patrice: Let me just text my friend so he can also hear. Wait for him here while I go shopping.
Me: Oh, okay.
November 23rd, 2010 at 17:02
Wow, kung ganyan naman ka-fresh ang ka-date mo eh patatagalin niyo pa naman ba ang dinner? Wahaha!
November 23rd, 2010 at 20:44
If I and Patrice were to see each other I would channel Jonathan Rhys Meyers and say:”Show me the courtesies that you have learned in France”.
November 23rd, 2010 at 21:58
“Of course not.”
“I’m sorry, did I just hear you correctly?”
“I’m not going to budge on this one.”
“It’s a simple request.”
“Apparently, we have totally different ideas about what constitutes ‘simple’”.
“What’s so difficult about it? It’s not like I’m asking you to prostitute yourself.”
“That’s the thing. You are.”
“Of course not. You take off your shirt, we get the money. We can split the take right in the middle. I get half because I know the client.”
“Client? Is that what we call them now?”
“Well, ‘dirty old fag’ just seems so politically incorrect. Accurate, but terribly rude.”
“The guy just asked you to ask me to take off my clothes, at the least, for a private show. Seriously dude, we are beyond rude. This is surreal.”
“It’s not surreal. It’s just, well, think of it this way, you’re bringing a little bit of happiness to a lonely old guy about to enter the last years of his life. Actually, if you really think about it, the moral thing to do is to say yes. What’s a little nudity if it means you can make someone happy?”
“You’re not actually serious.”
“Think of it as charity.”
“Oh my god.”
“Hey, I’d do it myself, but he did ask for you specifically.”
“No.”
“Think about it.”
“No.”
“I’ll make it 70-40.”
“That’s 110 dude.”
“So you’re a mathematician now?”
“No, I just know simple addition.”
“You are such an ass. And a prude.”
“Maybe, although not with this. In this context, I’m just correct.”
“Whatever dude. Finish your fries. I hope you become fat and ugly.”
“Awww. I love you too.”
“10,000 bucks down the drain. Such a waste.”
“That’s another thing. 10,000 bucks? Seriously dude, I’m offended you think I’m that cheap. Look at this ass. Does it look like a 10,000 peso ass to you?”
“Did you just point at your ass? That is so gay.”
“Of course not. Having sex with an old gay dude is.”
“There’s no sex involved here.”
“First, we don’t know that. Second, you might as well ask me to. This isn’t that much of a leap from what you want me to do.”
“Hay, we would have made a great team. You bring the hotness, and I pimp you out. Too bad you have morals.”
“Oh wow. I’m sorry ha.”
“No apology needed. It’s not your fault you have a stick up your ass.”
November 24th, 2010 at 03:08
Pare Meets Mate
(or Meat Mates Pares, depending on taste)
“Patrice, pare, you listening to me?”
“Hold on, mate. I got me self an SMS from Silvia.”
“Where’s that place?”
“Huh? What place?”
“Where in the world is Silvia.”
“I dunno. I should ask her.”
“Ask who?”
“Silvia, mate! She sent me a message.”
“Silvia sounds like a country. Who names their kid Silvia? Hippies?”
“You fuckin’ mental, mate? It ain’t funny. We just met her last night! A really fetch chick to be chattin’ with. Paid for both our drinks, I recall. She even asked for your mobile.”
“What’d she say?”
“That I have sexy eyes. And, get this, that her own eyes are, and I quote, ‘pale pink if you care to take a looksie.’ A looksie! Who says that? And pale pink? Her own words, mate! Wicked! Wasn’t she dark skinned? They got this special cream from China, I hear. Makes the titties as pink as pencil erasers.”
“She’s a slut, pare. Not worth the time.”
“I’ll give her a good time, that I can. I should reply. Ask her to send a pic. Ha! It’s the decent thing to do, right? This is so wicked! That’s strange … I don’t quite remember giving her my number. Nor had she bothered to ask yours truly.”
“I did.”
“You?”
“She asked for my number, and I gave her yours.”
“Shite, mate, this SMS was meant for you!”
“Guilty as charged. But hey, I got something to tell you–”
“Bloody hell! Why’d you do that? I’d have figured you’d want to keep her to yourself. She got herself a tight little bint of a body. Ain’t she your type?”
“No.”
“You cheeky bastard. So now I gots to pretend I’m you?”
“She’s all yours, pare. But put down the phone for a sec. This is important.”
“I’ve been bested. You win. You’re the master! Alright, mate. You was gonna tell me this dream you had.”
“Last night, yes. Two dreams.”
“Start with the interesting one.”
“Shit, just forget it. Go and text miss transvest-sylvia, the vamp in heat.”
“Sorry, mate. Continue.”
“Nevermind. There’s too much pressure.”
“I’m listening! Just let it out. You can’t start a story and not end it proper. What was it about?”
“Okay. We’re best buds, and we’ve known each other, what, seven years? You know me, I don’t share my dreams.”
“No, you don’t. Get to the point. Sylvia’s waiting.”
“We were at the beach. Maldives with a bit of Aruba thrown in. Yellow-white sun, sea-spray and surf. We were naked.”
“Shite, mate! Who were you with?”
“You.”
“I meant who were you naked with?”
“Me and you. We were both butt naked.”
“Wicked! I bet my rump looked better than yours. Go on…”
“You said you were feeling hot, and I said I was feeling hot. So we fucked on the beach.”
“Bollocks! You’re makin’ this up. I’ll screw you up the arse if you don’t take that back.”
“Well, in the dream you did. You did all the screwing, come to think of it. And all that time, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ kept playing over and over again. You know, the one by Deep Blue Something? ‘And as I recall / I think / we both kinda liked it / and I said / well that’s / the one thing we got.’ I loved that song back in high school. Patrice? Patrice? Pare, are you still there?”
“You’re a poofter … a homo … my best friend’s gay …”
“Patrice, it was just a dream.”
“And what was the other dream?”
“More of the same, but the soundtrack was different. ‘Just Like Paradise’ by David Lee Roth.”
“And this was just last night?”
“Third consecutive.”
“Third consecutive night?”
“Third consecutive week. Every night. Madonna some nights. Cher in others.”
“That’s it. Fuck you. Wait, gimme a moment while I bloody compose myself: FUCK YOU!”
“That’s real mature.”
“All those times in the shower. Did you tell anyone else? Andrew? Ollie?”
“Tell them what?”
“That you’re gay.”
“Who says I’m gay?”
“You just told me–”
“I told you my dream you dumb fuck! I didn’t say I enjoyed it.”
“But did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you, you know, kinda like it?”
“You weren’t moving with the music. So I didn’t feel a damn thing. Except the sand. There was sand everywhere. And it gets in places, you know. That ever happen to you? Patrice? Hello? Earth to Patrice!”
“So if I understand you correctly, I’m not good enough for you.”
“It was like fucking a ghost. So yeah, it’s like you weren’t even there.”
“I’m hurt.”
“Oh, the drama!”
“I’m French, mate. I live bloody drama.”
“If you’re so French, why are you speaking with that accent?”
“I’m not. I’m speaking in street French, mate. But you’re interpreting it as English.”
“I’ll be damned! Indeed! You are speaking French! I can understand French! Why do I understand French? This is weird. Why are the waiters serving sand? I ordered pares.”
“Because this is your dream, mate. And I’m now gonna screw you in the arse.”
“Hey, what’s this song? Is it Kylie Minogue?”
“Locomotion, mate. Locomotion.”
November 24th, 2010 at 11:21
Party
I heard her say, “No,you can’t, Richard. And tell no one.” Before that it went like this:
“With a dog.” said the man with the phone.
“Really? With a dog? With no leash on?” said the woman in front of him flatly. Then she returned the spoon to the plate. The food still in it.
“Yes. In a car.”
“Well, that can’t be too bad, right?” said another man with a watch.
And then a laughter. The likes of which I’ve not heard before.
“Wait, what question are we in now?”
“Same question.”
“Oh, so who’s next?”
“Me. But can I use the story about the pencil and Jonathan’s…back?” said the woman with the glasses.
“The one about his death?”
“No, the one about his son.”
“No.”
“Definitely no.”
“O.K., well, can’t I just ask you guys about something then?”
“What?” asked the man with the phone.
“Don’t you just love it when you’re–” the girl in glasses giggled here before she continued “buying air and there are potato chips in it?”
“…”
“O.K., my turn,” said the man with the same watch as mine.
“You’ve heard the story about my brilliant wife, right? I was coming home. 10 minutes earlier than usual, right? Excited as ever, expected. I opened the door. With the cake on the floor, because Darla the darling didn’t get the table back to the porch, right? And when I opened the door, what did I see but her. There. On my couch. Legs splayed flat. Atty. Dick Eitter over him. Right? ”
“Right. But you did leave out the part about the moan–”
“Shut it. Just shut it. Shut your mouth, please? I know my story. I was there. I was the man, Jane. I wasn’t the one over her when I opened the door. Okay? Get that? I wasn’t the one who might be porking her mouth. ”
“Wow, choice words.” said Jane.
“Can we now get the bill, please?” said the woman in glasses.
“So anyway, I didn’t get to tell you what my first reaction was.”
“Right, because after 10 years, it still matters.” said Jane, which I later learned was short for Janethan.
“I didn’t bother to get the cake in. Because I was still, well, let’s just say, a liitle surprised. Dick’s torso still unbelievable. His whole muscles all still sweaty. But I forgot to tell you guys that when I saw him, the exact words I said were: Dick, what are you doing there?”
“Dick what are you doing there?” asked the girl in glasses.
“Yes. Dick, what are you doing there. But that’s not my answer to the question, though. The answer is deep down I wanted to do that, too. I was actually jealous. It’s made me feel like I should’ve done something about it. Something that I might be proud to be the first one to have done, you know? Which isn’t exactly the case now.”
“Richard’s next.” asked Jane, who was now toying her thumb.
“Nahh, let’s just skip it.” answered Richard, the man with the phone.
“Well, the bill’s not yet here, so we might still have time for one.” said girl in glasses.
“Well, it’s nothing like yours really. Not that tragic at least.” said Richard. His phone now off.
“Hey man, let’s be the judge.” said the man with my watch, eating my favorite steak. Then after at least a 30-second pause Richard rubbed her two index fingers against his nose. And talked.
“Okay, well, you know when you’re like really down. Like, down down? And you’re trying your best not to get back to meds? And then you know it’s just gonna pass? But then you also know, it’s still not gonna be like when you’re hungry? And you can just easily see the canned food you can just open anytime when it’s worse? And you’re not to panic? Even if you’ve like, uhm, both already tried to listen to sad songs and read some funny comics? And stories to just make you less, uhm, panicky? And they still don’t work? And, it’s still really sad, like sad sad? Well, at that time, I just try to–you know. I mean, it’s not even like a fantasy, you know?. Or at least that’s what them E5 told me. So anyway, I think, or at least I try to think, that I’m tempted, you know–” I remember he just stopped here before continuing with, “nahh this isn’t the time for this.”
“Tempted of what?”
“Or tempted TO what.”
“You know, like tempted to–but I’m pretty sure it’s just, you know instinct, like a primitive evolutionary thing? Like an Emotion No. 919-A?”
“Come on, tempted to what, man. Seriously.”
“No, seriously? Forget it. Let’s just cut the bill now.” Richard answered.
“Nope, not going nowhere until you say it.”
“Come on, please, just say it.”
“Say it?”
“Just say it.”
“No, Richard, trust me, you need to say it.”
“I agree.”
“You need to say it now.”
“Yes.”
I’m pretty sure it’s minutes of this back and forth, pause, back and forth. The way I see my friends do it when I’m about to tell them something I’ll regret. Like a Situation 20-43. Until finally, in a slightly annoyed and sincere but almost questioning Emotion No. 1 tone, Richard answered with nobody for a very long time have dared to say: “Pray.”
November 24th, 2010 at 13:39
LMAO!
November 24th, 2010 at 17:54
@#10: Well, I sure hope it isn’t for Richard.
November 24th, 2010 at 20:26
Girl: Hi. Who are you texting over there? Is it me? Is it me you’re looking for? And the final answer is me.
Boy: …
Girl: You are Patrice the French guy? Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?
Boy: Hey! Um, ah… You’re already here! I thought you were still on your way, so. I’ve already ordered us food. I hope you didn’t mind. They have good lamb chops here. Best ones in town.
Girl: I thought you are going to feed me escargot. Right? But lamb chops is so fine. It’s so fine you blow my mind.
Boy: …
Girl: I like lamb chops, too! My, my, I always… um, eat that in school during recess. But my dad usually cooks kambing, so it’s…
Boy: Kambing? Is it the Tagalog word for pork?
Girl: No, it is goat. Like the cousin of the sheep, but we have good goats here in the Philippines. Do you know they have square pupils? I Googled that in Wikipedia this morning, ‘cause you know, I’m such an Internet person. Heehee.
Boy: Oh… Nice, nice. I see. So um, can I tell you a secret?
Girl: Yes, of course not. I can keep your dirty little secret, like the song, haha. I can be your Teodora’s box you know.
Boy: I think it’s Pandora, but actually, this is my first time to date a girl.
Girl: Oh my gosh! Like oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh my gosh! It’s perfectly okay! I know gay friends who were become straight afterwards. They are guys now, which is kinda okay lang naman. But please don’t be gay because I’m Catholic.
Boy: No, haha. Um, I meant I never really actually dated anyone before. My dad’s a bit strict you know. So, I apologize for being a bit-
Girl: It’s too late to apologize… it’s too laaaate… oh woooooh hohooo…
Boy: I’m sorry, can you excuse me for a second? I’ll just check my phone.
Girl: You’re excused! Class dismissed! Haha.
Boy: So um… Andrew told me he met you in a bar last week.
Girl: Definitely! We saw ourselves and we hang ourselves afterwards. He is so funny! Like Bayani Agbayani!
Boy: Who is… anyway, um, you’re still studying?
Girl: I just graduated four months from now.
Boy: Err… what course did you take?
Girl: I don’t intercourse myself in college, I’m shy. Hihihi.
Boy: I mean, your degree program?
Girl: Ah… I see. I see you lookin’ at me, like I’m some kind of freak, why don’t you do something?
Boy: I think you don’t need to stand up.
Girl: Jazz kidding! I’m studying biology. I wanted to shift out in the first place. But I decided to stick me out till the end in the second place.
Boy: Shift out to?
Girl: Boyology. Ahahahaha.
Boy: I’m sorry for being so lame and awkward. I obviously can’t keep up.
Girl: You want a knock knock joke?
Boy: Who’s there?
Girl: Buko shake.
Boy: Buko shake who?
Girl: Voulez buko shake avec moi, ce soir, he he hey… Free your lady marmalaaaaaaaaaaaade! Get get, aw!
Boy: Um, let’s see… Ah… Shit. I have a knock knock joke, too!
Girl: What is it pansit?
Boy: Crazy. Crazy girl.
Girl: Crazy girl who?
Boy: Who… is that girl I see, staring straight, back at me?
Girl: …
Boy: Get it? Get it?
Girl: You’re gay.
Boy: Of course not, I’m just French.
November 25th, 2010 at 09:04
# 12 johnbristol6: hahaha. i wish you win this one!!!
November 25th, 2010 at 14:43
mali pala. ganito dapat: # 12 johnbristol6: hahaha. i wished you won this once!!!
LOL.
November 25th, 2010 at 17:11
Milo McFlurry
Woman: Mc Donald’s, huh?
Patrice: I was craving for some Milo McFlurry. But hey, they serve coffee here. I can get you some if you want.
W: I’m fine. Finish your McFur… your food so we can leave.
P: How are you doing? I’ve missed you.
W: I just lost a husband, what do you think?
P: I can’t believe you did it for me.
W: I hope you are flattered.
P: How did you do it?
W: Did what?
P: You know, (whispers) kill him.
W: Why do you want to know?
P: Well you did it for me so I guess I have the right to know.
W: It was not difficult to make it look like a suicide.
P: But didn’t the doctors…
W: I begged them not to do a postmortem.
P: I don’t understand. I’m only 18.
W: It’s the only way we could be together.
P: Why didn’t you just leave him? Or file a divorce or something.
W: I didn’t want him to be sad. I didn’t want him to experience anything worse than death.
P: You know when you called and told me that you (whispers) killed him I felt kind of guilty. I mean, poor guy. You said he wasn’t a bad man.
W: He wasn’t. He gave me everything I wanted. A huge house, expensive wardrobes, jewelry.
P: So do you think he deserved to be killed by his own wife so she could be with a teen rugby player?
W: I need to smoke.
P: You can’t do that here. And I told you to quit it. It’s for your own good.
W: Oh, I’m touched. But I can give up anything except smoking.
P: You can quit me?
W: Ha ha ha ha! Right now? No.
P: You still haven’t answered my question.
W: What question?
P: If your husband deserved to die like that.
W: I cheated on him many times even before I met you and he forgave me. I know he was already feeling miserable living with me but because he loved me so much he didn’t divorce me.
P: So you’re saying that you just helped him end his sorrow? That you did him a favor?
W: Exactly. You’re learning. I’m impressed.
P: (chuckles) I’m sure you could teach me more things.
W: Of course.
P: Hey, I’ll get another Milo McFlurry. You sure you don’t want coffee or apple pie, perhaps.
W: I think you’ve had enough of Mc… that food.
P: But their serving is so small here I wasn’t satis-…
W: Patrice, it’s lovely outside. I think I want to have a walk.
P: And then maybe we could go to your place later?
W: Why, yes. My husband’s gone…forever.
November 25th, 2010 at 19:48
@#12 johnbristol6 — Eyeloveit! Ang sakit sa bangs!
November 26th, 2010 at 09:03
Wahaha, nakakagalet ka johnbristol16! Ahaha, kakaloka, ikaw na! Its you already anymore!
November 26th, 2010 at 11:34
“What’s a little nudity if it means you can make someone happy?” >> ficklecattle
“Locomotion, mate. Locomotion.” >> triphammer
“But please don’t be gay because I’m Catholic.” >>johnbristol16
Hahaha!
November 26th, 2010 at 12:41
Semi-Blind date
“Are you Bert’s cousin?”
“Yup. Why?”
“You’re in green. Okay. I’m Sorry. How long have you waited? I really thought it’s still early. I got your text and you said you’re still on your way. Maybe it was delayed, I don’t know. Or maybe I lost track of time. I’m really sorry. Wow! You ordered drinks already.”
“Uhhmm. Its okay, I guess. I just got here. Why are you taking a seat”?
“Are you with someone? I thought it was just the two of us. Bert didn’t tell me. Are we going somewhere else?”
“No. I am alone. But… What did Bert tell you?
“Just to meet you here. He gave me your number and just told me to arrange this date.”
“This date?!! Hahaha Ok, listen.” (Arms folding)
“Wow. Haha. I’m really surprised. Bert told me to just agree going out with you and he said I would be surprised. I didn’t really expect it to be this way I mean, it’s supposed to be a blind date. Did you know it was me?”
“What? No. No. I actually don’t know anything about this. Wait, listen to me.”
“Ok. That’s fine I guess. This still is a blind date then! (Smile) I didn’t know you were Bert’s cousin? Since when?”
“Uhhh, since birth. (Smile)
“That’s right, of course! (Smile) This is really weird. This whole time, I’ve been practicing on how to introduce myself. And now, I don’t know if I should do that. I mean, you know who I am and I know who you are. We even had a class together.”
“You know who I am? No we didn’t have any class together.”
“Yes. We did. Remember Chem lab last year? You were the one who spilled HCl all over the floor.”
“Oh yeah that was probably me. But which class? I must have done it on every class (Smile). I was the lab assistant. Student worker, you know?”
“Uhhmmm. It was the one where your coat got caught in the Bunsen burner. I think that would be more specific.” (Smile)
“Oh. That one. Yeah, that one comes to mind. It’s not just specific, it’s humiliating. But funny, I imagine.” (Smile)
“Well, at least we know each other’s names. We don’t need to tell each other what we’re doing, how old we are, and where we stay because you’re obviously a ‘dormitorian’. Stuff like that. It’s a semi blind date!”
“Haha. I wouldn’t call it anything yet. We are not having a date, not in any form you want to call it.”
“……..”
“That was a little harsh. But it’s all good. I guess you were expecting someone else.”
“No! No! That’s not what I meant. It’s fine that you’re here, really. But this, this is a mistake.”
“Ok. I’ve never really been on a blind date before, so I don’t know, maybe it is a mistake. But, I didn’t imagine it would go this way.”
“Me neither! I’ve never even been on any kind of date before! But this one, this is wrong. You see…”
“Wait, wait. It’s my phone. Woah! I have 10 messages.”
SMS: Hi R u still on ur way? Ill be late. Sorry. ?
SMS: R u der now? Sorry m stil on my way.
SMS: Bad traffic!
SMS: Hey, can we cancel? I dnt think I can make it in time. ?
SMS: Sorry. Cant make it tonyt. Can we resched? Emergency.
More SMS
“Oh.” (Surprised look) Ha-ha. I get it. You’re not my date! (Pointing)
“Hay….. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you the whole time.”
“So you’re here?
“I’m on my own, just spending some free time. I have some of it, you know. (Smile)
“Wow…This is embarrassing. Really!”
“Haha. Not as embarrassing as what you are about to do. I mean, you’re going to leave and all those girls at the next table will be laughing at me the whole night. (Smile) But it’s ok. I think I’ll stay. I love the pasta here.”
“I’m sorry but I have to leave. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“No problem. It’s ok. I’ll call this my almost-first date (Smile)”
“Im sorry. (Leaves)
“Waiter! Menu, please. Hay.. Why didn’t I just tell him right away?”
………..
………..
……….
(After a few minutes)
“You know what? I think I have some free time too. Like right now.”
“Mmmm. Well…..” (Surprised)
“I am Berts’ cousin.”
“You’re Albert’s cousin?” (Smile) (Takes a seat)
“Nope. Robert’s” (Smile)
November 28th, 2010 at 05:12
Across Patrice sat Revihilda. The six layers of skin and cholesterol under Revihilda’s barely existent chin began to wobble even though, for a change, she was not chewing food inside her cavernous mouth. She spoke with a low, deep and loud voice a judgmental person would expect from someone obese and who wore excessive jewelry.
“So? Ikaw si Patis?”
“Patrice.”
“Patrice? Parang Patricia?”
“Um, Yes.”
“Anong klaseng pangalan yon?”
“It’s actua–”
“Putang amaaaa–sarapngpagkaindito!!” Revihilda started to gobble down again.
“I agree. I just wish I could afford this.”
“ANO?!” Pre-digested food and spit flew all over.
“I said I ju–” Patrice didn’t even wipe his face.
“AKALA KO IKAW ANG MAGBABAYAD??! HINDI KA BA MAYAMAN?!!!” A bread knife was then pointed at Patrice’s dribble laden face.
“I’m paying I’m paying! I just said I can’t afford this but it doesn’t mean I’m not paying! I’m just saving up for something.” The bread knife then quickly went from in front of Patrice’s face to the food on Revihilda’s plate.
“Mabuti. Pero hindi tong pagkain ang kelangan kong pabayaran sayo.”
“What?” blurted Patrice. The make-up that hardened on Revihilda’s face cracked audibly as she raised a brow. Six lines formed on her forehead.
“May nag-text sa’yo.” said Revihilda. Patrice took hold of his cell phone. “Anong sabi?”
“It says, ‘Mr. Patrice, we regret to inform you that your request for an extension on the payment of your loan has been denied. Please expect…'”
“Ituloy mo.”
Patrice refused to do so.
“Ano hindi ka na marunong magbasa?? TAMOD ITULOY MO!!!” Revihilda’s booming voice snapped Patrice out of his daze. Patrice swallowed his spit and continued to read the text on his cell phone.
“‘Please expect to die soon.'” Revihilda then continued to eat, nearly finished with her meal.
“Is this a fucking joke? Because if it is,” Patrice then snickered, “because if it is then it’s not fucking funny.”
After swallowing the last bit of her meal, “GROOOOOOoooOOOOooowWWWwwGGggg…” Revihilda burped. “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“What? So it’s a joke?” said Patrice as Revihilda continued laughing hysterically. Patrice looked around the restaurant. It was just then that he realized how odd it was that nobody cared about how noisy Revihilda was.
“WAHAHAHAHAHAHA–” Revihilda then coughed as if her lungs were about to explode through her fat chest. Phlegm flew all over. The heavy coughing lasted for six seconds but still nobody in the restaurant seemed to notice. Then she spoke.
“Hindi ka ba nagtataka ba’t ang swerte mo?”
“No.”
“Ba’t ang talino mo, ba’t ang gwapo mo, ba’t pinanganak ka sa magandang pamilya…”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Binenta ka sa’kin ng magulang mo!” said Revihilda as she smacked Patrice on the head with the palm of her plump hand. The sound of wobbling fat under her arm echoed after the smack.
“OW! FAT BITCH!”
“ABA PUTA KANG GAGO KA A!!” Revihilda then removed her hand from Patrice’s head and grabs her glass of iced tea for the first time during the entire meal. In a gulp, the glass is empty.
“Tapusin na natin ‘to.” said Revihilda as Patrice stroked the bruise on his head.
From under the table Revihilda took out an unbelievably huge shot gun and pointed it at Patrice’s chest.
“Where’d the hell ja get that??!” asked Patrice as his eyes crossed looking at the barrel of the gun.
“Hell.” answered Revihilda, then with a click and a bang, Patrice was dead.
Moments later, a waiter approached the table. He was the first to notice that Patrice’s head was slumped on his food. Patrice was alone on the table. After trying to wake Patrice up, the waiter realized Patrice is not breathing.
A man in the restaurant volunteered to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Patrice. However, mouth-to-mouth was the only part the man knew how to perform. He only volunteered because he had the hots for Patrice and had been stalking Patrice for a month. Patrice was later brought to the hospital where it was declared that he died from choking on his food.
The manager of the restaurant didn’t push through with charging Patrice posthumously for the food. It was not to the knowledge of the manager that there was someone who paid the bill. The waiter did see money on Patrice’s table, he just kept it for himself. The waiter did not count the money (since it went straight to his pocket literally) but it amounted to P666.
November 28th, 2010 at 10:52
Title: A Serendipity-ish moment:
Amy: (Sweeps through the door, making a beeline for the order counter…spots Patrice on the way and feigns surprise) Hey, Patrice, OMG, fancy meeting you here, I mean, what are the odds???? This is crazy!!!
P: (Unfazed by her presence, mumbles non-commitaly) Yeah, whatever…Amy, I have brunch here every Sunday, religiously, and you live in the next building…what are the odds???? The probability of our “bumping” into each other wasn’t exactly nil…
Amy: (Heaves a sigh) But can’t you see, something’s at work here…something bigger than us, something, someone, like a grand chessplayer, juxtaposing two pawns from either side of the board, me, you…???? Don’t you just feel it???
P: Pffffttt…You’re reading waaay too much into this…(cellphone rings) Look, I really have to take this…
Amy: Of course…..
November 29th, 2010 at 00:32
The Proposal
(edited)
“You know what I’m going to do with 700 million pesos?”
“Hold that thought, I need to use my fingers here … with my phone because I’m lousy at math … that’s just over 16 million US dollars. That’s sixteen indecent proposals. Like sixteen nights with Demi Moore.”
“You are such a dog.”
“Though I don’t dig Demi Moore. Not any Moore. Get it? Her MILF factor faded with GI Jane. Instead I’d gun for Marisa Tomei. You seen the Wrestler? Boy, that’s what I’m talking about; she’s gorgeous even at her age. Maybe she needs the money, you know. I don’t see her much in the big screen. A million dollars a night. Sixteen times, baby, every two nights. I’ll need a day to recuperate in between. With Marisa T., you gotta make the best of it. But gimme a sec … let me run a few more numbers … yeah, if even if we assume a depressingly conservative interest rate of one percent per year, your 700 million would earn you almost six hundred grand a month. That’s just simple interest. I won’t have to work. Ever. But there’s just one problem: you didn’t choose the right numbers. You have to win first.”
“I’m going to build a galleon.”
“A gallon of what?”
“A galleon. The sail boats what look like pirate ships?”
“What the fuck are you gonna do with a galleon? You’ll wear an eyepatch, buy yourself a parrot and what, act like Jack Sparrow or Captain Crunch?”
“Captain Crunch doesn’t wear an eyepatch and neither does Jack. I’m serious, man. I want to use some of the money to build a galleon. Heck, I’ll build three of them.”
“Thank God for Marisa then. I hope you never win. What a fuckin’ waste.”
“Can you stop thinking about your prick for a moment and think about my proposal. We need this.”
“No, you need this. I need an extra cup of rice. Waiter!”
“I mean, we, the country, needs this.”
“My friend, the last thing the Philippines needs is a boat that will sink with the next typhoon. If you want to help, just give the whole thing to charity. Or buy 70 million condoms and give them to the public. That’ll ease your Spanish guilt.”
“I’m half-English.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Better than half-French.”
“Watch it.”
“You started it.”
“And I’m ending it. I always thought your mom was Spanish. Tell her I said hi.”
“Remember when the galleon that sailed into town a few weeks back? It was just a replica but I really wanted to see it.”
“How was it?”
“The fuckers wouldn’t let me in. I was up at four a.m., and was in line by five.”
“You were awake at four in the morning?”
“You know what they told me three hours later? That the boat was full! There were hundreds of people in line with me. Families, children, grandmothers, for crying out loud. We never got to catch even a fuckin’ glimpse. They got some girl with a megaphone telling everyone that the ship was full. How’d that happen? The line never moved! We didn’t need to ride the boat, we just wanted to see it. Take a few photos. Post it on Facebook. You know who were allowed in? VIPs. Politicians, embassy staff, their friends and families. Maybe a few underpaid journalists, and though I have a soft spot for journalists, I hate the ones who were on the boat that day.”
“You don’t hate them. You envy them.”
“Hell yeah. I envy them. And that’s what pisses me off. It’s my history, too. It’s as if the Spanish fucked us all over again.”
“Well, they are good fuckers.”
“I’m going to build three galleons. I’ll name one the Luzon, the other the Visayas, and—”
“Mindanao.”
“I was going to say Palawan.”
“Not Mindanao?”
“Too many Muslims. They might take offense.”
“And you call me a dog?”
“I’ll build four galleons then.”
“You were going to ignore Mindanao? What do you have against Muslims?”
“I’m building four of them ok? I’d build more, but I need to keep some cash for myself.”
“Lemme get this straight. You’re going to build obsolete ships, give them cheesy names, and plunder the coastal villages to get back at the people who wouldn’t let you through the gate because you woke up in vain at four fuckin’ a.m.? As far as revenge fantasies go, you got no imagination.”
“I’m going to launch them as luxury hotels, dumbass. Twelve rooms each. How many people do you think would pay to spend a night in a real galleon?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Because you don’t have any culture. This is our heritage, man.”
“I’m sure a real galleon would be pretty expensive to build. I’m sure you’ll need more than 700 million to build four of them.”
“Then I’ll just build one! This is my fuckin’ fantasy. Will you let me finish?”
“Have some rice. You look pale.”
“I’ll get investors. Filipino and mestizo tycoons to contribute to the project. Henry Sy, Lucio Tan, the Ayalas. I’ll ask Teddy Boy Locsin to file a bill in Congress to drum up government support!”
“Locsin is no longer in public office.”
“Oh. Then he can make noise! Did you know that during the time of the Galleon Trade, the ships were made here in the Philippines? For the first time, the galleons should sail with a Philippine flag! This will really help raise our profile as a tourist destination. Pilipinas, Kay Ganda!”
“I think they dropped the slogan and fired the dude who cooked it up. Really, have some rice.”
“And, and, I’ll hire foreigners to serve the guests!”
“Wouldn’t that be expensive?”
“Not if I hire interns. Not if I hire guys like you. You’re cheap.”
“Fuck you.”
November 29th, 2010 at 03:19
Resending. OC lang. May mga nakita pa akong H e. Hahah! Thanks.
——–
“May problema ba ang Globe ngayon? Parang ‘di ako nakakaresib ng mga teks, Koyang Jeb. Ang ‘irap pang mag-sen’. Teks mo nga ako.”
(Ringtone: Satisfaction)
“O, gumagana naman e. Teka lang, Pat. Kumusta naman ang lakad mo? Hindi ka ba nahirapang lumuwas dito?”
“’Ay nuko, medyo na-trapik lang bandang Apo sa Angeles. Pridey kasi. Maraming tao ‘pag Pridey dun. Mga namimili sa tiangge, mga ganun. Pero nung lumabas na ako sa Sto. Entierro, okay na. Natrapik na lang ako uli sa Dau.”
“Kumusta naman ang interview mo sa agency kanina?”
“Eto nga e, ‘inintay ko ang teks ng agency. ‘Anggang ngayon, wala pa akong nare-resib sa kanila. Pero okay lang naman. Masaya naman ang interbyu.”
“O anong sabi nila?”
“Pinag’a’anda ako nung… ano nga ba yun? S’ow money? Mga pipty-tawsan daw, Koy.”
“Fifty thousand? E kaya ka nga pupunta du’n para magka-fifty thousand tapos hahanapan ka nila ng fifty-thousand? Okay lang ba sila?”
“Aktuali, may twenti- payb tawsan na ako. Kala’ati na lang ang kailangan ko.”
“Malaki pa rin yun, men. Alam mo, it’s kinda fishy to me. Hindi ka ba natatakot na baka illegal recruiter yan?”
“Ewan ko. Muk’a naman silang okey.”
“Chineck mo ba sa POEA?”
“Hindi.”
“Tsk, tignan mo ito. You should have asked muna. Gusto mo samahan kita bukas? Diyan lang naman sa Ortigas ‘yun.”
“’Indi na. Baka ‘di rin ako naka-pasa. Kung ganun man, ‘ayaan na lang natin. Aktuali, gusto kong mag-aplay din sa Canada, kaso di ba, sabi sa balita, close na raw ang pagrerekrut ng mga nars sa Canada.”
“Ah, oo. Nabasa ko nga sa Yahoo yun.”
“Pero tumatanggap pa rin ng mga ticher sa isteyts. Ba’t ‘di ka mag-apply dun?! Ay, oo! Sayang, Koy! Tapos, ‘anap mo ako ng work, ka’it janitor lang, mga ganun. Ipetisyon mo ako.”
“Hahaha! Okay ka rin, ah. Parang ang dali-dali ng gusto mong mangyari.”
“Wala ka ba talagang planong mag-abrod?”
“Paano ba ko ba ieexplain? Gusto ko, pero wala ‘kong plano.”
“An’ labo mo, Koya.”
“Hindi. Sabi ko, kung may opportunity naman, then I’d grab it.. Kung wala, okay lang din. Masaya na rin ako dito, honestly. Comfort zone ba?”
“Ah. Pero alam mo, sayang kung ‘indi. Malaki ang kikitain mo dun.”
“Oo. Duon kahit waiter ka, ma-aafford mo nang bumili ng kotse. May maayos pang health benefit. Organized pa ang mga kalsada. Talagang may fixation ako sa kalsada, ano? Hahaha!”
“O’, see? Pati ikaw naisip mo na maganda dun.”
“Pero siyempre, may set-back yun. Super busy ang mga tao dun. Kayod ng kayod para mabuhay. Tsk. Ang gusto ko lang naman e laid back na buhay. Baka ma-stress lang ako kung dun ako magse-settle.”
“Kahit sa’n naman, maiistres ka. Ganun lang ‘yun. Iba-ibang digri lang pero may istres pa rin.”
“Kailan ka pa naging profound, Pat?”
“Ano… ambyans. Iba kasi ang ‘angin dito sa Maynila, Koy!”
“Loko! Hahaha! Tumigil ka nga diyan at ubusin mo na yang Coke mo. ‘Pag ako nagpunta dun, mamimiss mo ako kasi wala nang manlilibre sa iyo dito, ulul!”
November 29th, 2010 at 18:10
– I saw Jan today.
– Hm.
– It was at the mall.
– Yup.
– I said, Hi.
– Yup.
– I-
– Huh.
– I-
– Did you-
– I- There-
– Hm.
– I watched that movie you told me about.
– The Blue Kite?
– The one with the mom and the kid. Who was beaten up by the guards- The other kids. Were those guards? The one about- In China.
– Great Leap Forward. Cultural Revolution.
– Yes? What’s-
– The second husband dies of malnutrition. I love how quiet that movie is. It’s-
– Was it malnutrition? I- Why- The song the boy sings-
– Uhuh. I lost my DVD. Someone borrowed it and-
– Jan.
– Nope. Someone.
– Did you and Jan watch The Blue Kite?
– Yes.
– Really?
– I don’t remember.
– You said yes.
– We probably didn’t watch it together.
– Is your cake good? You want to order something else?
– Yes.
– I’ll call the waiter.
– No. I meant- The cake.
– Yes?
– Yeah.
– Have you ever cheated?
– Huh-
– Cheated-
– What? Where exactly?
– When we were together, have you-
– I can’t finish this. I’m too full.
– I’m full. I’m not hungry. I ate at my office. You’re not full. Do you have thoughts of cheating?
– I don’t know-
– So you do.
– No.
– You said you don’t know. You think about it, don’t you.
– No. I said- No-
– You did not say no. You said you would-
– No.
– Cheat.
– Will you have sex with Jan again? Did you- When we were going out- Have you-
– Hey- It was all- Why are you- He-
– You would, wouldn’t you.
– No. I would not. I would not.
– Was he better than me?
– Please.
– Sometimes- sometimes I feel like you don’t like- doing it with me-
– Why- When exactly- Stop now- Shut-
– You just lie in there- Sometimes I feel like- How did you and Jan have sex?
– I don’t remember.
– You do. Tell me how. You had sex with him lately? Where?
– You saw him today and you’re- Questions- Asking me- Questions-
– I’m not accusing you- I’m curious- Did he fuck you- Hard?
– Listen-
– I’m not saying anything- Just asking questions-
– I can’t eat this now.
– Finish your cake-
– I will.
– Eat everything.
– I cheated. What if I cheated? Huh-
– No. You did not. You couldn’t do it.
– You asked me. I’m saying I did.
– You’re just.- You’re just- Saying that.
– Hm.
– You can’t do it.- Let’s go home.
– I’m still eating.
– Let’s go- go.
– I’m- Still eating.
– If you want to go home now- Just- Leave now. I’m still eating.
– You’re lying.
– Hm.
– You did not.
– Yes.
– He looked at me weird today.
– Why didn’t you talk to him?
– I did. We used to be- Friends. I guess. I did. Talk to him.- Hey.
– What did you say.
– I said, Hi.- Said, Hi.
November 30th, 2010 at 00:20
“Patrice, lemon iced tea?”
“Yes? It doesn’t look like beer to me. Well, you are drinking beer, that’s lovely.”
“But you used to order beer here.”
“At lunch? No. And that was before. Besides, I have given up on drinking. I just realized that there is so much more to life than partying and drinking all night. But go ahead, don’t mind me. Drink your beer. You don’t drink everyday, do you? So who were you out with last night?”
“I was with Andrew, and…”
“I knew it! So you’ve been to his sleazy place again…”
“Wait, no…”
“…doing drugs and having unprotected sex. Some people do not really know when to grow up, don’t you think? And some of us have to deal with that.”
“Hey, nobody’s doing anything. We just had… coffee.”
“I didn’t realize you like coffee. I don’t think I have ever seen you drink coffee.”
“Well, it was his treat.”
“There are a lot of people now who go to Starbucks, sit at the table for the rest of the day, and smoke a pack of cigarettes with just one frappucino. Are they trying to look like elitists or something? It’s a poser thing, I tell you.”
“I just tried one of the holiday drinks, the toffee something.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. At least you are trying something new, getting a hold of life instead of being stuck somewhere in the past. By the way, I met Harry last week.”
“Harry? As in Harry?”
“Harry? Who else? Your ex? Does that ring a bell? He’s so ripped. He told me that he has been working out lately. He never looked so good since you parted ways. And he said that he’s going out with someone. I think his name is Matt. That’s lovely. It’s been like six months since, you know, the big fight?”
“Uhm, yes. I’d rather not…”
“Well, being single is good. You get to date a lot of people, flirt here and there, and enjoy life. There’s no need to rush. But I tell you, Harry is so hot. I never thought he was that good-looking when you two were still together. Why the long face? Oh come on, the bill’s on me. Let’s watch Harry Potter.”
“But I never watched any of those Harry Potter movies.”
“J.K. Rowling is my hero. He may not be the most brilliant of writers, but there are still so many people who are insecure of his fame.”
“But he’s a she.”
“What do you mean? Are you trying to mock me? Is this what I get for all these years of sticking up with you? I don’t think I deserve this. Really.”
“No. I was just saying that I think Rowling is a woman.”
“I didn’t say that she’s a man.”
“But you said ‘he’ and ‘his fame.’”
“When will you ever learn to listen? You never do. I always told you to get away from that Andrew and surround yourself with nice people. They will bring in positive vibes so that you could lead a better life. Wait, what is that? Are you smiling that I’m-up-to-something smile?”
“Haha. Maybe.”
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me about it? Go on.”
“You see…”
“Come on. You’re not trying to hide anything from me, are you? What are friends for? Tell me. ”
“Andrew just introduced me to this guy. His name is Justin. He’s a…”
“Oh, I have a message. Go ahead.”
“He’s a professor. And the three of us had coffee last night. And then…”
“Hahaha! This is so hilarious. Oliver just forwarded this joke. Where were you again?”
“Oh. So we had this conversation about music. He listens to Sigur Ros, who else listens to…”
“Oh my. Hahaha. I still cannot move on with that joke. I don’t know where he gets all that stuff. Go ahead.”
“Yeah. So he also likes the group. I didn’t think that…”
“Maybe I should give him a call and hang out, don’t you think? He is so fun to be with. I really miss going out with Oliver. I’ll just give him a ring and see what happens next. Go on, continue.”
“I didn’t think that he’s someone who would listen to the stuff that I listen to. And he reads McCarthy. And Faulkner. And…”
“Hello? Yes Oliver, can you hear me? I’m with our dear friend, Jake. You remember him? You don’t? You are so funny. Go on.”
“Oh. Faulkner. We were both ranting about his books…”
“Hahaha. Hey, do you have anything to do tonight? I was just wondering. Go on, Jake.”
“So he told me he has not been dating anyone lately. So he asked for my…”
“Alright. So I’ll meet you in an hour then? Okay, just send me a message. Bye. So you were saying? Go ahead, take your time.”
“Yes. He told me that he would give me a call one of these days. Well, I can’t help…”
“That’s a lovely story. I am so happy for you, Jake. Really. Can you call the waiter and get the bill? I just need to go to the rest room.”
November 30th, 2010 at 12:30
How To Be A Ninja
He turns on his phone and says, “Hey, I didn’t turn off my phone. Lisod lang signal diri. Nadawat nimo ako gifts? Good. Good. Hey, kanang, I was wondering if you could just go on without me? This meeting might take longer. What’s that? Sure. Ingnon nako. Don’t forget to leave me a slice. Really, how happy? Hey, ingna the box should be AT the back of Naruto, not in the eyes ok? And hinayi pagsud. Alright. Ok. Bye honey.”
Then he puts back his phone to his shirt pocket and takes back the paper. He reads it and reads it some more and puts them back over the menu and then a lady with a kid in a stroller comes to his table.
“Hey.”
“I was at National and then a mascot was there and he saw it and started crying and now he couldn’t stop. I couldn’t–did you get my text?
“Oh, no. My phone’s turned off.”
“Well, did you bring his milk? I thought you forgot it so tinext kita to buy some.”
She touches baby’s head.
“Maybe the diaper.”
Then he checks time.
“Maybe.”
The waiter still not at their table.
“You brought the diapers?”
Now a waiter goes back to the kitchen.
“No.”
Then it’s exactly twilight.
“Oh. That’s ok, I don’t think it is.”
Then she gets the bib off the baby and glances at the sun.
“I ordered some lamb.”
Then he moves the stroller under their table.
“That’s nice. Thank you.”
“Do you want shake.”
Then he drinks some water.
“No, just water, thank you. Maybe we should get him some high chair.”
Now he checks his phone. And then she wipes off the baby’s tears.
“Of course. Hey, just a second, I need to answer this.
Then she wipes hers.
“I thought you turned it off.”
Then he stares at his phone. Then he stares at it more. She watching the baby. He types and types but not exactly words. Then he just stares at the phone.
“I did. Hey, there’s the waiter, you can ask him for the chair. I’ll be in a minute.”
Then he comes back and then there’s a box now in front of him.
“What’s this?”
Then he opens the red box.
“Open it.”
“Ow Clarice, you didn”t have to. How thoughtful. I didn’t expect this. No, really.”
He scans children’s book about ninjas. And then she says, “I hope he likes it.”
To which he answers, I think he might, I think he might.
November 30th, 2010 at 12:37
How To Be A Ninja
He turns on his phone and says, “Hey, I didn’t turn off my phone. Lisod lang signal diri. Nadawat nimo ako gifts? Good. Good. Hey, kanang, I was wondering if you could just go on without me? This meeting might take longer. What’s that? Yeah, sure. Ingnon nako. Don’t forget to leave me a slice. Really, how happy? Hey, ingna the box should be AT the back of Naruto, not in the eyes ok? And hinayi pagsud. Alright. Ok. Bye honey.”
Then he puts back his phone to his shirt pocket and takes back the paper. He reads it and reads it some more and puts them back over the menu and then a lady with a kid in a stroller comes to his table.
“Hey.”
“I was at National and then a mascot was there and he saw it and started crying and now he couldn’t stop. I couldn’t–did you get my text?
“Oh, no. My phone’s turned off.”
“Well, did you bring his milk? I thought you forgot it so tinext kita to buy some.”
She touches baby’s head.
“Maybe the diaper.”
Then he checks time.
“Maybe.”
The waiter still not at their table.
“You brought the diapers?”
Now a waiter goes back to the kitchen.
“No.”
Then it’s exactly twilight.
“Oh. That’s ok, I don’t think it is.”
Then she gets the bib off the baby and glances at the sun.
“I ordered some lamb.”
Then he moves the stroller under their table.
“That’s nice. Thank you.”
“Do you want shake.”
Then he drinks some water.
“No, just water, thank you. Maybe we should get him some high chair.”
Now he checks his phone. And then she wipes off the baby’s tears.
“Of course. Hey, just a second, I need to answer this.
Then she wipes hers.
“I thought you turned it off.”
Then he stares at his phone. Then he stares at it more. She watching the baby. He types and types but not exactly words. Then he just stares at the phone.
“I did. Hey, there’s the waiter, you can ask him for the chair. I’ll be in a minute.”
Then he comes back and then there’s a box now in front of him.
“What’s this?”
Then he opens the red box.
“Open it.”
“Ow Clarice, you didn”t have to. How thoughtful. I didn’t expect this. No, really.”
He scans children’s book about ninjas. And then she says, “I hope he likes it.”
To which he answers, I think he might, I think he might.
November 30th, 2010 at 19:45
[ang hirap mag-isip ng conversation topic na akma sa picture! subok lang, baka lumusot ito].
–Bakit ka ganyan, bok? Di ka naman ganyan dati, ah.
–Bakit, ano ko dati?
–Progresibo ka mag-isip dati. May malasakit sa mga layunin natin.
–Hhmn napagod lang siguro ako mamitik ng librong gusto ko sa national bookstore. Kaya naisipan ko nang kumayod at kumita.
–Oo nga alila ka na talaga nang kapitalista. Pumipilantik na rin sa kaiingles ang dila mo.
–O, di naman kita iniingles ngayon a. Purong pinoy tayo mag-usap.
–Pero dumudulas ang dila mo kanina. Ang bigkas mo sa mamitik… ma-me-tekh. Langya.
–Pasensya na, baka dumulas nga. Pero kaya ko pa rin namang ma-ki-pag-ba-li-tak-ta-kan sayo…
–Oo, pero yang damit mo, yang mukha mo, panay siguro ang facial scrub mo.
–Kailangan lang sa trabaho na maayos tayo at mabango tayo.
–Oo nga, todong sellout ka na.
–Di naman siguro, bok. Aktibista pa rin sa utak. Sumisingit pa rin ng laban, laban sa kabobohan.
–Bakit ka ba nagkaganyan, bok? Napa-maling-timpla ang gising mo isang araw at bigla ka na lang kumalas?
–Nung una, gusto kong matikman ang technology kasi. Unang humila sa akin yung PS2. Gusto kong maglaro noon nang Grand Theft Auto. Ngayon, eto–tignan mo itong cellphone.
–May cellphone din ako, di nga lang ganyan kaganda.
–Subukan mo lang pre, i-try mo lang. Sabihin mo sakin na di mo maappreciate ang technology. Itong isang produkto nang kapitalismo.
–kailangan din namin yan, may selpon din ang kilusan, pero di namin kailangan nang ganyan kagarbo.
–Ayaw mo bang kumakain sa ganitong restoran?
–Kaya kong lutuin ang halos lahat ng putahe dito.
–E pano ang ingredients, pano ka bibili? Subukan mo lang intindihin. Hindi ito simpleng sunod lang sa agos. Nakita mo yung bagong pictures ni Joma na nakadamit nang magagarang sweater. May tsiks pa na nadikit ang boobs sa braso? Suporta pa ba sa layunin natin, yon?
–Nakita ko nga at napagsabihan na sya.
–Napagsabihan nino?
–Basta di ko kailangan nyan.
–Subukan mo lang, pre. try mo lang. Hindi ito oras nang drama, pero palagay ko, pag pinagtabi-tabi tayo, pag hinubad lahat nang pretensyon, unang loyalty dapat ay sa sarili, bok.
–Kailangan pa tayo nang naargabyado, pre.
–Mas masarap mag-aral nang may internet. Mas epektib na gamitin sa akribismo ang internet. Hindi na tayo dapat… ayan na ang inorder, kumain muna tayo.
[kumain, makailang subo…]
–Patingin nga nyang cellphone mo. Ito ba yung may 4G-4G eklat?
November 30th, 2010 at 19:58
Next Attraction
“You’ll play a mass-murdering megalomaniac.
“Sweet! Ozymandias? In a ‘Watchmen’ remake?”
“Well, no. You’ll be Patrice Olivier.”
“Sorry? But—I am Patrice.”
“Yes. And you’ll be a mass-murdering madman.”
“I don’t understand. You’ll turn me into a movie character?”
“Let me explain. We’re asking you to have a real-world role in the killing of millions.”
“What are you on man?”
“Patrice—what I am about to tell you will change the way you see the world.”
“Of course. And you’re Morpheus. But okay. I could use some insanity today.”
“We’re casting you as Patrice Olivier, a Christian fundamentalist dictator who establishes an anti-gay regime in America. You will commit gendercide on a scale so horrific, it will make the Holocaust look like a kinder-garden Halloween party.”
“And you’re one fucked up dude. Seriously.”
“I understand why you see me that way. But hear me out. In religion I am an angel. But the truth is I’m an Agent working for The Studio Boss—that’s God to you and everyone else. I roam the earth in the same way angels are depicted in myth. I watch people. I look for persons who can play specific roles.”
“God, you are insane. If you are what you claim to be—an angel or whatever—you should know what I did last night.”
“Okay. You were with Mara. She wanted Japanese, you craved for Indian. So the two of you went to Nielsen’s. But you ended up eating all the sushi. You drove her home around one. But it’s that time of the month. So no dice. You went home, jerked off, took a quick shower. Then you completed the last Jordan Challenge in NBA2K11 in the nude then—“
“Stop. Just stop it man. Oh my fucking god. Who the hell are you?”
“I told you, I’m an Agent working for The Studio Boss. And we think you’re perfect as the dictator of a future dystopian America.”
“Dystopian America? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Listen, there’s one thing you should know—there is no hell. When people die, everyone goes to heaven. But it’s not the heaven most people picture in their heads. Heaven’s a giant multiplex. All the movies you could ever watch, all the genres you could ever imagine, all the popcorn you could ever eat. Heaven’s a never-ending film festival.”
“What? How? I mean—shit I need a drink. I can’t believe I’m actually curious enough to ask.”
“I understand how this all sounds. But listen. This world—everything around you—this is heaven’s studio lot. Everyone’s in Hollywood, Patrice. The lives of you and seven billion others are the material from which our directors make movies from.”
“Wait, directors? There are directors in heaven?”
“Hitchcock. Kubrick. Kurosawa. All the great storytellers since antiquity. When a storyteller leaves a mark on earth, he gets the privilege to make movies in heaven.”
“Come on, cinema’s only a hundred years old.”
“On earth. But it’s been around since the beginning. And it works exactly like Hollywood. Directors pitch ideas to The Studio Boss. If the Boss likes it, it’s greenlighted. Which means the director’s granted god-like powers. He can fuck things up just to create drama. Heard the fancy insurance term ‘acts of god’? What are the chances that on the night the Titanic sank, there was no moon, the sea was calm and the ice that struck the ship was a rare kind of iceberg known as blackberg which was impossible to see on a night like that?”
“Jesus. Then why pitch this role to me if the director can basically do whatever he wants?”
“People have free will. We need the leads to act exactly how we want them to–for the story to play out.”
“And you want me to become a murderer of gays? Really? Do I look like a gay killer—I mean a killer of gays?”
“Orson Welles wants someone who doesn’t look the part. That’s why he wants you.”
“What? Orson Welles is directing this—movie?”
“Yes. And it’s going to be one depressing film.”
“Man-oh-man. What if I turn down the role?”
“That’s up to you. But listen, Patrice. In heaven, it’s the depressing films that people line up for.”
“Huh?”
“Look, what’s the one thing you’ll never feel in heaven?
“How should I know?”
“Pain, Patrice. Without pain, heaven’s just one gigantic Disneyland. It’s fun. But only to the newly arrived.”
“So you’re telling me that history’s most gut-wrenching acts of inhumanity are blockbusters—in heaven? That’s just sick.
“Hitler felt the same way as you do now. It’s a burden every villain has to bear. As there is no hell, there also is no evil. It doesn’t exist so long as nobody carries out the deed. It’s as simple as that.”
“You actually expect me to kill millions just to entertain the people in heaven? How fucked is that?”
“How many times have you asked yourself, ‘Who am I?’, ‘What am I supposed to do in this world?’ Everyone wishes for a bigger role. Now I’m giving you that chance. Think of it this way—you’re going to send millions of gays to heaven to watch all the movies they could ever watch. They’ll thank you for murdering them. Anyway here’s my number, in case you accept the role.”
“Man-oh-man-oh-man-oh-man. Wait. If there’s no hell, then I can just kill myself, go to heaven and skip all this bullshit!”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Why?”
“You’ll go to heaven, yes. But you’re allowed to watch only halfway through a film. Any film.”
“Dammit.”
November 30th, 2010 at 22:28
“So what was it that you can’t tell me over the phone?” He asks.
“It’s about, you know, what’s been happening between us,” she says. She is fiddling with the straw of her iced tea.
“How about we order something first. You know me, I have an unbelievable appetite.” But he isn’t calling the waiter’s attention. He takes out his cellphone from his jeans pockets.
“Is that Leo? Where is he? Does he know we’re having lunch today?”
“No, it’s Dan. Asking if we’re up to a movie tonight.”
“Listen, I think it was very very wrong of me to initiate—“
“I told him we’re okay but not in SM. The floors are frickin’ sticky there, like some kid vomited his dinner of gummy bears and popcorn all over the floor. Very gross.”
“Tell him I’m not feeling too great. Tell him we have to pass up.”
“You pass up. I’m going to watch a movie with him.”
“Pat. I’m pregnant.” She says quietly through gritted teeth.
“Congratulations.” He says, but he doesn’t look up from his cellphone. “I’m psyched to see Unstoppable with Dan. You know how he is, the perfect movie buddy. Always quiet throughout the film and gasps in just the right time.”
“Are you deaf? I told you I’m pregnant.”
“And I said, congratulations. Aren’t you menopausal already?” He laughs.
“You’re the father.”
The smile doesn’t even fall from his face. “You stupid cow, you swore you were on pills.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ever coming on to you, I’m sorry for having initiated everything but I was just feeling so lonely and I promise I didn’t know it would come to this. I’m fucking pregnant. And I don’t know what to do with this now.”
“I should’ve trusted my gut that you’re into me because you wanted a kid.”
“I don’t want a kid.”
“I don’t want one either.”
“Leo would be so heartbroken, oh god, the poor man. This will really hurt him. What have we done?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he says. “I’m not leaving him for you.”
November 30th, 2010 at 22:35
“…excitable.”
Excitable?
“Yes, excitable. She said,’It was excitable.'”
-That’s it?
“Yes. I’m confused.”
In a drugged euphoria excitable?
-What is that even supposed to mean!?
“No, no — no drugs. Vague, right? Vague.”
-Sexual tension between you two, unresolved, awkward goodbyes kind of way, the kind where you should’ve kissed her but you didn’t?
Yes, and leave it to Jessica to think of the sex.
-Uh hello, being a prude much, Mr. Jun, Queen of the Desert?
“You think? But I was being nice!”
Or gay.
-Trust Jun — he knows his gay.
“It was the first date!”
Which usually leads to sex. It’s all about sexual compatibility now.
-The death of romance. We’re gerbils, we’re hamsters, we’re rabbits.
I’d rather be a pig. Half-hour orgasms…can you imagine?
-Or a praying mantis. Copulate then decapitate. Lovely!
“So, what do you think should I reply then?”
-Thank you, I found it rhapsodic.
Maybe rapturous instead?
-I had a diaphanous evening.
That could work. Vague.
-Utterly germane to the situation.
“Trippy.”
November 30th, 2010 at 23:47
>Damn you, you only txt me when you need me.
>>Sorry, I can’t really think of anyone else to talk to about this.
>Serious, are we?
>>I think I need a beer.
>I think I’ll need one too. So, What’s this thing so important that you suddenly remembered that I exist?
>>It’s Janet, remember her?
>Janet? The Janet …oh my God! You don’t mean you’re still with her.
>>I am not just ‘with her’, I am living with her.
>Please don’t tell me…
>>Yes. I suggested that I live with her so that I can get close to her…mother.
> Waiter, follow up on that beer please. Make it 4! How long has it been?
>>Almost 6 months now.
>What were you thinking!?
>>That’s the thing! I wasn’t really thinking. Remember I used to fetch her at their house when we were dating? I did that just to see her mother and talk to her. And when we’re having dinner or watching a movie, all I could think of was driving her back and seeing her mother again. I even insisted on going back early. Of course she thought it was sweet, like ‘oh that’s sweet you are thinking about what my mother ’. Of course, I just wanted to be sure her mother was still awake when we get back. Don’t laugh!
>I am not laughing. I am just…smiling. C’mon it’s not everyday I hear this kind of story. Let’s be honest, it’s unusual but… amusing. Don’t mind me.
>>Ok. So I felt that wasn’t enough. I just got to see her mother more often, but I didn’t know how. And then we had a fight. I panicked. It was our first fight and the first thing that went through my mind was if we split I wouldn’t see her mother again. All these thoughts were running in my head like ‘What would I do? This can’t be happening. I’m gonna lose her. Should I tell her the truth now? She would kill me. Her mother would hate me.’ And then I blurted out, ‘Let’s live together’. It was totally unplanned. I surprised even myself. I didn’t knew where it came from.
> So how did she react?
>> She hugged me. Can you believe it? She hugged me as if she had not been yelling at me seconds ago. She really loved the idea. The very next day I moved in.
> A dream come true then, seeing her everyday, the mother I mean.
>> It was a dream all right. The very first day I moved in, all I could do was smile. And her mother said, ‘you have a nice smile’. Then I laughed. The rest of the day I was smiling and laughing inside. Janet noticed it too. She said, ‘I have not seen you this happy’. I was so happy that I didn’t mind telling her the most awful lie of my life
> Which is?
>> I told her, ‘Living with you is a dream come true. You are the only person that can put a smile on my face. I love you so much’. Of course, that may not have been the exact words, but the sense is there.
> That’s awful.
>> I know. But it doesn’t stop there
> God, I think I need more beer.
>> Anyway, that dream that came true? Each day, it was slowly turning into a nightmare.
> How so?
>> I can take pretending to care and to be in love for about 8 hours a day. But doing it 24/7. It is torture. I have a limited supply of fake believable I Love Yous. If I’m over my limit, it comes out mechanical, like a primitive robot.
> That’s funny!
>> It isn’t. It’s really hard especially when her mother’s around. Everyday I’m trying to impress her. I insisted on doing the dishes, I learned how to cook for her, can you believe it? Me, cook? I washed our clothes…with my HANDS!
> That’s so sweet. Oww
>> It was, but she didn’t notice it. It was Janet who always praised me. And you know what she said? She said, ‘I’m falling in love with you even more.’ And you know what her mother did? She got herself a boyfriend. A BOYFRIEND!
> Maybe she realized she needs a man in her life. Seeing how happy her daughter is with you, she must have felt envious.
>> Envy was not what I’m going for. I want her to be jealous.
> Tell me about this boyfriend.
>> There’s nothing much I can tell. I have never met the guy. He never went to visit. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend until Janet told me. I never believed her of course. Until one night I woke up with the sound of their lovemaking.
> What?!
>> Our room and her mother’s room are adjacent to each other. There were loud squeaking sounds. I thought it was a dream. When I realized it wasn’t, I stupidly wished there was just an army of rats invading the house. But I can hear her moan. I wished I could drown that noise. So I woke Janet and asked her to have sex with me. Everytime I hear her moan, I moaned louder. Everytime I hear that squeak, I pumped harder. After that, she told me, it was our best so far. It was so sad, because I wasn’t even thinking about her…that was just last night actually. This morning Janet proposed to me. A woman proposed to a man!
> And that is why I’m here right? You want my advice? Don’t marry her. Just go away and forget her mother.
>> What? Why?
> Either that or you have to live with the fact that her mother can never be yours.
>> I am not really planning on giving up.
> You should. I just proposed to her mother. And she accepted.