The Weekly LitWit Challenge 4.1: An extraterrestrial lands in Manila
Welcome to the fourth series of the Weekly LitWit Challenge, a literary competition that tests your writing skills, your powers of invention under duress, your sense of absurdity, and your self-esteem. And your ability to “read” the Yucch-meter’s mind, because the criteria for judging are arbitrary and more than slightly influenced by the Yucch-meter’s serotonin/endorphin levels. If you are the emotionally-fragile, artsy sort who needs someone to hold your hand and give you a gold star for your “creative self-expression”, Go Away. We write, we are serious, shut up and begin.
This is Dino Ignacio, one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. He lives in San Francisco where he works at Electronic Arts. He designed the user interface of Dead Space and Dante’s Inferno. Dino founded the Webby Award-winning site Bert Is Evil and produced the animated Maritess vs The Superfriends. (I watched it yesterday for the first time in many years—it’s still hilarious.) He also designed my first website, twisted.com.ph.
While watching Maritess I suddenly remembered the time Dino found a box containing a full Jollibee mascot costume on the sidewalk in Greenhills. Reret and I tried to convince him to put on the mascot outfit, go to McDonald’s, and challenge Hamburglar to a duel.
We haven’t seen each other in ages, but yesterday when I sent him a hologram that began, “General Dino, years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars,” he answered immediately. It’s good to know that the Jedi remain solid.
If you live in the Bay area you may have seen Dino shopping for groceries in his complete Star Wars Imperial Stormtrooper uniform. This is Dino in his 2009: A Space Grocery outfit.
Here are your instructions for LitWit Challenge 4.1.
An extraterrestrial being lands in the metropolitan Manila area.
Maximum 1,000 words.
Deadline: 11.59pm, Sunday, 12 December 2010.
If you have any questions, best to keep them to yourself.
The prize: It’s a surprise. Oh all right it’s this.
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 >>>
December 8th, 2010 at 18:31
.eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeea…………………………………………………………………………………………………………eea
ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE
The boxyzima lends discretion over my distinguishing feature. My nose hits the average size of the homo sapiens’ two feet if planted side by side on their face. Quite unfortunate, for without it, I would be able to breathe in all the emotions these highly hormonal aliens emit.
As it is, I am quite alone.
Yet I don’t smell ennui on myself. Just the yellow citrus flavor of curiosity.
H2O appears to be the primary liquid which the dominating species of this planet consume. I cannot help but laugh internally at that. The same goes with their rudimentary concept of the wheel and their so called simple machines. Not even self-propelling. What children.
About 5, 000 years old – the age of this specie. With their unwise choice of sustenance, relying primarily on wheat, I estimate 2,000 years give or take before they begin to die out one by one. Merely a hairbreadth on our lifespan.
Directive accomplished.
Is that melancholy I smell on me? But there is no one around… Impossible, anyone would be glad to leave this polluted, doomed planet.
Time warp in three, two, one…
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…
December 9th, 2010 at 00:22
Captain’s Log – Earth Hours
0000 hrs – Transmission received by planet Budrovia from Earth by mission headquarters. Contents of transmission unclear, except for presence of Earth human named “Andrew Zimmern” partaking of food considered disgusting by Earth human standards. Based on information provided on this transmission, Emperor Zodrax has commissioned a Budrovian exploration crew to planet Earth. All other mission details remain confidential until further notice.
0530 hrs – Crew arrives in location identified as “Quiapo Manila Philippines.” Weather can be best described as chilly; skies can be described as slightly dark, with slight chance of sunshine. Further investigation reveals that we Budrovians have arrived during what most Earth humans call “Christmas Season,” based on the amount of blinking lights, gigantic five-point stars, and several competing renditions of the inter-planetary hit song “Feliz Navidad.”
0545 hrs – Due to violent encounters between Budrovian ensigns and heavy-set Earth humans with unusual dark markings throughout their epidermis, entire crew has decided as a unit to replace space suits with elaborate disguises based on characters from other Earth transmissions. Thus, crew re-enters community wearing “baseball caps,” “baggy jeans,” “Air Jordan sneakers,” and “Ed Hardy T-shirts.”
0615 hrs – Crew distracted by the sight of an ingenious cooking device that disperses purple food-stuff resembling caterpillars from home planet. After a short exchange of 5 Rolex pieces (considered a common waste product in Budrovia, similar to cardboard boxes and plastic packaging containers from Earth) and an injection of time-bending Silencinon (mandatory for all bartering trades with Earth, as per Budrovian law) for individual green wrappers of Puto Bumbong, vendor wraps several food-stuff packages in green leaves for crew to investigate. Food-stuff is identified as the refined C6H12O6 varietal recomposition known as Puto Bumbong. Since Budrovians digest refined C6H12O6 differently from Earth humans, crew decides to eat entire packages of Puto Bumbong, including green wrapper.
0635 hrs – An entire group of tiny young Earth humans have congregated around our crew, out of curiosity. Despite the potentially dangerous nature of our mission – and the unending sense of curiosity inherent in small human beings at this stage of development – we allow the tiny human beings to follow us around.
0715 hrs – Crew arrives at Central Market. Humans drawn to stalls selling combinations of C6H12O6 with several forms of amino-acid polymers, which have been determined as the food forms known as “Tapsilog” and “Tocilog.” There is also the presence of what has been called a “hot dog,” but the main translator has determined that this form of “hot dog” does not refer to canines or parts of the Earth human male anatomy.
0815 hrs – First sign of alternative food source located. Ship navigator corners vendor with basket full of white spherical objects containing what looks like the unhatched embryos of Earth life-forms from the Anatidae family. Vendor assures us that the substance named Balut contains amino-acid polymers and other substances proven to give Earth humans super strength. Entire crew purchases whole basket of Balut with 20 pieces of Rolex and a short Silencinon handshake.
0905 hrs – Ensigns return with another vendor specializing in another combination of C6H12O6 and amino-acid polymers known as Taho! Silencinon handshake and 100 pieces of Rolex exchanged for the vendor’s entire set-up which includes one metal container of plant-based polymers and another of C6H12O6 in both liquid and solid forms. Since the crew is still full from their meal of Puto Bumbong, several containers of Taho! are dispensed and passed to our small Earth human friends.
0935 hrs – Ship lieutenant approaches seller with a huge pot of black liquid, which navigator mistakes for the contraband Budrovian libation known as Centaurishine. Another scan reveals that the liquid is, in fact, what is referred to by the inhabitants of Manila Philippines as Dinuguan, made from the blood of domesticated animals from the Suidae family. Crew debates its merits as an alternative food source for Budrovia before deciding that Dinuguan is more appropriate for the surrounding Earth humans, since it is not compatible with the popular Budrovian C6H12O6 preparation known as “All Bran Cereal.”
1035 hrs – Crew members continue to disagree over the viability of food sources located in Central Market, such as Pinapaitan, Bopis, and Galunggong, which end up being purchased with Rolex and Silencinon anyway. Ship’s captain, lieutenant, and navigator decides to take a break from the constant arguing by enjoying an entire container of the popular Manila Philippines food preparation known as Dirty Ice Cream – which, oddly enough, also goes well with pieces of the yeast-leavened preparation of C6H12O6 known as the Sweet Bread Roll.
1115 hrs – At last, the best food sources for Budrovia! We encounter different forms of organic amino-acid polymer compounds known to the customers of Central Market as ADIDAS, made from the lower limbs of the species Gallus gallus domesticus. Captain has also discovered massive amounts of the rare gourmet treat known as Kwek Kwek, which has fast become a popular post-treat gift for Budrovian missionaries. A Silencinon handshake and 1,000 pieces of Rolex is exchanged for enough ADIDAS and Kwek Kwek to fill the cargo hold of the ship, which translates to enough food to last an equivalent of 10 Earth Years for the inhabitants of our entire planet.
1145 hrs – Budrovian ship leaves for home base, but not without bombarding the entire population of Quiapo Manila Philippines with a strong dose of Silencinon to avoid notification of Earth armies of our presence.
1715 hrs – Crew arrives and submits final report to Budrovian council. Despite our best efforts to explain the popularity of the substance on Earth, Emperor finds the fascination with Rolex baffling.
December 10th, 2010 at 22:12
Raket Ship
It couldn’t be denied. Millions of Filipinos were dreaming the same dream every night.
There were all kinds of theories and ideas put out at first. From the scientific—the accidental synchronization of the electrical fields in millions of Filipino brains caused by a rare form of coronal mass ejection—which, of course, no one understood. To the just plain bizarre—Rizalistas in Mount Banahaw turning Filipinos into a zombie army in preparation for holy war.
Who would have thought?
The dream was experienced from one’s own point of view but from what it seemed like the same plane of existence. You could “awaken” to the dream looking out into deep space from the panoramic window of an asteroid-size space ship. The glowing, multicolored billion-mile high tower that was the Eagle Nebula, in all its ethereal glory, come into view. Then you would hear the collective gasp of the ship’s occupants. None of whom were human but all were undeniably intelligent life.
It was a mash-up of characters in all those sci-fi movies.
This was the point you would usually figure out you were again in the same dream. You went about your task by instinct. You served exotic drinks to these beings. Methane margaritas chilled to minus 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Radioactive liquid uranium. And the little ones’ favorite, plutonium shakes.
As you wound your way across the giant ship, you began to meet humans. Not only humans, but fellow Filipinos. Some were engaged in the same task as your were, others were wearing uniforms which bore insignias indicating an important role on the ship. They must have been commanders or navigators.
You engaged in small talk with your fellow Pinoys. The next port call in Sagittarius. A rendezvous with a streaking comet. A viewing of an impending supernova. And of course, the trip back home.
Then the talks shifted to relatives and friends. There was a brother building cities in the barren plains of Dujinn, a desert planet which orbited the yellow star Urusthanos. There was a sister who manned the orbital control module of the interstellar port of Shartuk in the middle of the bustling Maoots System. An uncle who was a flight mechanic of the famed Razqurian Squadron.
It seemed as though that in this dream, Filipinos were all across the universe. But none of these visions were dreams. They were in fact, real.
It all started when Tazcoonian scouts arrived in Manila one December night. Their optically cloaked ship quietly settled off the waters of Manila Bay near Corregidor. Only a hundred of them fanned across the Metro on their magnetoscoots.
They have already done their homework from their home planet. Tazcoonians were galactic headhunters. They recruited the most skilled species across the known universe to fill in vacancies in billions of interstellar and planet-based jobs.
Tazcoonians invented the technology that manipulated space-time. They had the ability to teleport anyone to any point in the universe, have them work there for years then returned them to their home planet without a single second ever elapsing.
Filipinos have attracted the attention of Tazcoonians fairly recently. They noted how we work. How we were able to easily relate to other humans not of our own race. How ingenious we were. And how adaptable we were to any environment. Qualities that proved priceless in the often harsh and bewildering conditions of the cosmos.
There was only one problem. Unlike other alien species, human civilization had yet to reach the point of Hypertruism. We still fought amongst ourselves. We were greedy. We were too curious. We tried to find all the answers to all the questions of our own making. We had yet to reach that point in our consciousness where we let things play out and have the truth reveal itself in its own biding.
And our greatest flaw–we still regarded ourselves as the center of the universe. We were unprepared to accept how insignificant we were as a species.
Tazcoonians believed that once humans learned of the existence of intelligent extraterrestrial life, chaos would ensue on Earth. But they wanted Filipinos to work in galactic cruise ships, in engineering projects in far-flung planets, in medical outposts across millions of star systems.
So they asked the help of Myonites to develop lunamorphine—a substance which tricked the human brain into thinking that it was in a dream when in fact it wasn’t.
On that December night, the Tazcoonians exploded a lunamorphine bomb across Metro Manila, Cebu and Davao. Lunamorphine was programmed to affect only its intended targets. In this case, Filipino skilled workers who had experience working abroad. Once the neuromorphine was absorbed, the targeted Filipinos were teleported all over the universe.
They worked at their galactic jobs for years. Yet they returned to Earth without a moment ever passing.
This was the reason why Filipinos have been dreaming the same dream. We worked in interstellar jobs at night and woke up the next morning, thinking it was all just a dream.
We may not have conquered the Earth—yet. But beyond any doubt, we have been manning the entire universe all this time.
December 11th, 2010 at 13:21
Monday Morning And Mikel
Monday morning and Mikel feels as if he’s already been zapped enough for the day searching in vain for the CD.
– Hello, Xylvex, I am not coming in today, I am sick…-
-A-huh…and this time, with?!-
-Okay, it’s my fucking CD!-
-What?! Who is not sick with our Creative-fucking-Director?, tell me. Hahaha. You know you can’t be not here today, Mikel. If the presentation bombs, you know he’s gonna take it out on anybody not within his peripheral vision. Before you kn…-
-No silly, it’s a CD, a disc, not a dickhead. I can’t find it again.-
-You freak, get your ass out there and go buy another one. If it’s that War of the Worlds soundtrack, I’m sure you will find one in any music store. Just. Be. Here. Gettit?-
War of the what?! Nobody, not one in this lifetime can hold a candle to Michael Stipe. Though, inarguably, John Williams is good.
Xylvex squeaks like a strangled chick from his mobile. Thuck. No use talking to a person who doesn’t know music at all.
Aside from shocks of caffeine into his bloodstream, Mikel always makes sure he creams his coffee with shots of R.E.M. But today, he feels stoned as a rock.
He takes to the road, and instantly the city blurs past him – houses and the paranoiac need for white fences, the streetlamps planted at every street corner – all the bland uniformity of urban existence unraveling before him.
If he continues driving with no music on, with his mind flowing in a steady doldrum like the streets, he might slam his car into a post, and cops won’t take Michael Stipe for an alibi.
He swerves to a mall parking.
The pores of his skin appear larger today than they normally do; might be the new glasses. And the air feels a lot muggier. Wads of paper strips wag lazily from the louvre of the central airconditioning vent.
Inside the music store, he flips through stacks of CD one after another – a corporate automaton trained in the art of searching for that something, the fine art of zeroing in on details, and the spotting of aesthetic flaws and then the pitching of brilliant quickfixes.
-I. Need. Your. Help. Your. Need. I. – A guy, a motorist most likely, in a silver tracksuit and still with metal helmet on approached him.
-If it’s costume you’re looking for, I don’t think I can.- What on earth?!
-Please. Help. Please. –
-Man, I’m really sorry. I do want to but I am in a hurry. I need my…-
-Here. Here.-
-Wow that was fast. Haha. How’d you know?!-
-Glo. Ria. Di. Az. I. Want. To. See. Glo. Ria. Di. Az. –
-Huh?! It took you just a microsecond to produce R.E.M. and you can’t find an ageing ex-Miss Universe?!”
-Glo. Ria. Di. Az. I. Want. To. See. Glo. Ria. Di. Az.-
All of a sudden Mikel feels he is in the presence of someone, something out of the ordinary. But he is keeping his foothold steady.
The lighting between them flickers.
-You two, what’s going on here?!-
That’s the mall guard, molly-eyed, brisk and raring for action. A nervous saleslady is shaking behind him.
-What do you mean what’s going on?! You’re working at a mall, not a museum. People can come in as they are.-
-This. That. What, who are you guys? Explain.-
-This is a CD, and that, that is my friend. Okay na? Now back to work.-
– You both look suspicious but I am straining an eye on Lady Gaga.-
-Yup, there you go, but Lady Gaga is not in the mood today so better you coast meters away.-
Mikel attempts to stare the guard down but he backs off at the sight of the revolver on duty. Besides the heat is getting unbearable. The lights appear more intense, ready to explode.
-So you want to see Gloria Diaz? Wait, is it just some girl named Gloria Diaz, or is it the Gloria Diaz?-
-We. Must. Hurry. Must. We.-
-Now let me figure out what Wish Ko Lang can do with your problem, meanwhile I got a job for you.-
Back at the office, Xylvex now feels her stomach churning for Mikel’s fate. Lately, the team has noticed a halo of oddness about him – his throughputs have been deemed outré, or what’s the word again, yes, “out-of-it” as one big client had put it; but they can only suspect so much.
-And why would you want to see Gloria Diaz?-
-She. Can. Help. Us. The. Whole. Universe. In. A. Grand. Way. Only. She. Can.-
-Yeah right. So much to expect from somebody who shot to fame gallivanting from the back of a horse in a wet oversized white cotton shirt?-
-Hey. She. Was. The. Mother. Of. Jose. Rizal. Too.-
-You know so much about her, my friend.-
-Yeah. From. The. Time. She. Bagged. The. Miss. Universe. Crown. Down. To. Her. Tiff. With. Anabel. Rama.-
-Aha, you have tabloids in your place, um, planet too?-
-No. Dork. We. Have. Holographic. Intergalactic. News. Networks. Everywhere. Including. Our Headgears. We. Can. Tune. In. For. Updates. To. Any. Part. Of. The. Cosmos. Any. Time. We. Want. Wouldn’t. You. Want. To. Know. How. She. Won. The. Crown? Or. More. Bluntly. How. Philippines. Got. On. The. Map. Of. International. Beauty. Pageants?-
-Okay hold it right there. I think I know now where to take you. I promise you Gloria Diaz, just give me one of those helmets.-
As Mikel makes a sharp curve to a television network, Michael Stipe blasts from the speaker.
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine… I feel fine.
The TV screen at the team’s presentation flickers.
Mikel is headline news. And his friend in silver suit. Flanked by Gloria Diaz. Morphing. Into an alien life form.
December 11th, 2010 at 13:28
Dear Miss JayZ, I have to explain that the current Note/Comment Editor doesn’t allow for the italicization of some of the words (i.e. lyrics, articles for emphasis, etc.) in my story. Or are there some html codes that I need to know so I could present the story in its original form? Thanks.
December 11th, 2010 at 18:24
(I think I ended up outlining this entry based on the last challenge, which I didn’t get around to writing. Ehhe.)
“The Borked Chorvanator”
At the Brotato Interstellar Tesseract Calculated Haettenschweiler Exploration School’s Altered States Substances Bar, an explorer was slouching over his drink. His colleague was loading some dry leaves into his blown glass smoking apparatus.
“I’m telling you, dude,” ‘Dude’ said, “anyone who tells you that the third rock from the yellow sun in the Milky Way makes for an easy field exercise is wrong.”
“Whatever, I got assigned to the Bojan System.” ‘Bro’ leisurely took a hit from his apparatus and exhauled a few smoke rings. “At least you had a choice of where to go, bro.”
“Dude, I know, but starting from the landing things went wrong. Our maps said I was going to land in an urban area, on an empty lot that had recently demolished tenements. It even had walls around it for privacy, since it advertised some high-rise condom structure they were going to build there.”
“How could that go wrong, bro?”
“Somehow, dude, between the last time the area was scanned and my landing, people started dumping garbage in the lot. My pod’s landing gear kept me from fully crashing or being swallowed up by the garbage, but after the initial stabilization, something in the garbage heap broke and my pod tipped over faster than the landing gear could compensate for the shift. When I looked at it, my scanner identified it as a toilet. Who the hell throws a toilet in an illegal garbage dump?”
“All right, that’s pretty absurd, I’ll give you that. But we get trained to recover from a bad landing, bro.”
“That’s what I was telling myself, dude, but my chorvanator broke when the pod tipped over.” ‘Dude’ explained as he started peeling the label off his bottle. “Plus I landed in an area where a bunch of natives had to work by speaking a non-native language, so recalibrating it to deal with that made things worse, I think.”
“Hold up, are you saying the natives in that zone spoke a non-native language as work?” ‘Bro’ paused, digesting the sociolinguistic implications of this fact. To aid his contemplation, he took a deep breath from his apparatus. “That is just bizarre, bro!”
“I know, and get this, dude, it wasn’t a small group of specialist—there were entire towers full of them.”
“That is so weird. How did it go after you the chorvanator recalibration, bro?”
“I tried talking to people, dude, since I had my image inducer on and was supposed to look like what passed off as normal among those people, but I think the chorvanator broke for reals when the pod tipped over. Every sentence they uttered had the word ‘puppies’ in it.”
“Puppies? Why would they be talking about puppies? Were they breeding puppies, bro?”
“No, dude, it had nothing to do with breeding puppies. From what I could figure out from the chorvanator, they were talking about how puppies were cut and some weren’t. What sort of sick society cuts puppies? Then one of them started talking about how some puppies were more fun if it bent to the side or curved up. I don’t know if they have weird breeds of puppies, but that’s just not natural. Dude, I need another drink just thinking about it!”
“That is peculiar. Perhaps they weren’t loved enough as larvae. Did you engage the natives in a verbal exchange, bro?”
“Duuude, I did. They all laughed at me and asked if I’d never seen a puppy other than my own throughout my entire life. Our lifespan is longer than those natives; I knew what puppies looked like since I was in the larval stage. All of our files say that our puppies are nearly identical to their puppies. I told them that sometimes I took care of up to eight puppies at a time and they laughed so hard that their tear ducts started leaking.”
“Way harsh, bro.” He put his apparatus down and started preparing more leaves to smoke.
“Totally harsh, dude,” said ‘Dude’ as he signaled the barkeep for another drink. “They started talking about shaving and waxing cats, which really started creeping me out, so I ran back to my pod and got the hell out of there.”
December 12th, 2010 at 14:14
A Year-End Report to the Home Planet
About two years ago, Benigno Simeon Cojuangco Aquino, Senator, was the perfect poster boy for Operation Feeding Program. An unapologetic mama’s boy in the manner of Proust, we knew we could count on his mother’s strong influence to steer him towards the dictates of the Roman Catholic Church. Admittedly, we were not prepared for our Senator to develop his own diverse opinions so soon after his mother’s demise; if anything, it serendipitously served as his catalyst for change.
Yes, the Fates threw us a bone when our boy was asked to run, and won, overwhelmingly, I might add, as President of the Republic. Those were heady days–no small wonder this race loves elections. The exercise took me into the heartland of the masses, and all that groping humanity made me comprehend how ripe this region was for The Harvest.
However, despite veiled threats of impeachment and excommunication—the latter from our unlikely allies at the Vatican—I was not prepared for our President’s unflinching support for the seemingly innocuous Reproductive Health bill. I realized the futility of my mission when that diminutive Damaso’s little stunt spurred a generally apathetic youth to speak out. Clearly, the tide had turned against us, at great cost to our prospect for an alternative food source. That our President, so promisingly malleable, would come into his own so soon after assuming the presidency was a revelation. I had failed. And yet, and I do not deny this–a part of me is proud of the man’s metamorphosis.
Nonetheless, I feel it is too soon to concede defeat. If there’s anything I have learned in my various immersion studies on this planet, it is that:
1. Earthlings tend to vacillate. Today’s convictions hold true until the next status update.
2. The inclination to root for the underdog is universal.
3. Television is the strongest medium—particularly in my area, Manila.
Taking these into consideration, I am convinced the failure lay merely with my choice of candidate and I ask for a little more time to correct my miscalculations, especially in the face of recent developments.
It seems my ex-candidate is not the only one with an aptitude for serendipity. I have since met a most persistent earthling who, with the backing of this most powerful of men—more powerful, I gather, than the President—wants me to join their enterprise. And it is this very enterprise that will set my new plan into motion. But this time around, I will no longer rely on any one man to influence my cause. You wait and see. A willing, delicious public awaits me.
Sleeper Shalani Soledad
Manila cell
November 2010
December 14th, 2010 at 06:37
Lost
-I told you a million times to put a leash on him.
-Our son is not a dog, ok? He’ll come back, here, where he left us. He always comes back.
-This is a new grocery. Bigger than what he’s used to. He’ll get confused and would wander out into the department store.
-Little Johnny’s a savant, you know that. He always finds his way around and . . .
-Stop calling him Little Johnny. He’s almost fifty, for God’s sake! And that space suit has to go. We’re like a family of skunks whenever he rides in the car. How long has it been since he allowed you to wash it?
-Don’t raise your voice. People are staring at us now. You know it takes a wrench to pry him out of that suit.
-It’s been two hours. Don’t you think it’s time to go to the security office and file a report for a missing person?
-By now you should have gotten used to Li’l . . . our son’s quirks.
-You see all of those people carrying Del Monte fruit cocktails? It’s pandemonium here.
-But he’s stayed away longer and we found him.
-Yeah. In the security office. With pockets full of chocolates.
– I don’t think he’ll do it again.
-He better not! I don’t intend to spend Noche Buena here.
-Maybe he’s just hooked up on his favorite shapes.
-Or he’s opened up 100 boxes of cereals for the free toys.
-Don’t be too hard on your son. I know you wanted to get rid of him but you see, he’s all we have now.
-Shut up.
-Is that Johnny in the toy car? Yes, that’s him! Jooohhhhnnnyyy!!! Thank God you’re here. Oh, baby where’ve you been?
-Mommy, mommy . . . let’s go, let’s go. C’mon. C’mon. The bread section. The bread section.
-What is it honey, tell me. Now, lemme take your helmet off. What’s this? Why’s your neck wet? You’ve been crying? Oh, my poor baby. It’s ok now. Relax. Innnhaaale . . . exxxxhaaale. Good boy.
-So that’s what you’ve been obsessing with. Diaske! Tara, uwi na tayo!
– Nooooooo!! Go back!! Go back!!
– Emil, we better go back. You know how he is if we don’t go with him to the bread section.
-Magsama kayong mag-ina. I’ll just wait in the car.
-Ok baby. Let’s go back.
-Ride the car. Ride the car.
-Go ahead.
-Weeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh!!! Weeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh!!!
-Here, mommy. Here, mommy.
-What is it?
-This one. This one.
-This?
-Opo. Opo.
-Yeah? What about it? What’s wrong?
-Pandesal. Pandesal. Raisin bread. Raisin bread. Mongo bread. Mongo bread. Banana loaf. Banana loaf.
-Yes? I don’t . . . Please, don’t start crying again. Oh baby.
-That one. That one. Scary . . . scary. I’m scared. I’m scared.
-But it’s just . . .your first time to see this?
-Enemiessss . . . enemiessss! They’re here! They’re here! Ahhhh!!! Ahhhh!!!
-Baby, don’t run! Come here! Johnnyyy, halika sabi! Napapagod na ako sa yo!
-Galit?? Galit??
-Oh, so sorry baby. No, mommy’s not mad. Here, embrace. It’s ok. Here, sit with me. There you go . . .
-Ammmmm…. Ammmmm….
-Ok now. Let’s see. Look here baby. This is just monay.
-Ahhhhhhhh. Monster!!! Monster!!!
-Hey, don’t throw that . . . you’ll hit . . . ooppsss.. sori po, sori po. Di po sinasadya. Johhnnnnyyyyyy!#$@?!!! Diaskeng bata ito!! Come here!!!!!
December 16th, 2010 at 19:19
(Submitting another entry. I just had to get this story out of my head before the Yucch-meter declares this challenge null for the dearth of contestants.)
Pandango Sa Ilaw
Matagal na akong nabighani. Simula nang ika’y nagdalaga at pinagmasdan mo ako mula sa bubungan ng inyong bahay, palagi na kitang hinahanap sa tuwing ako’y hahataw na naman sa landas ng iyong bughaw na mundo.
Hindi naman tayo nabibigong magkita sa bawat dalaw ko. Palagi kang naghihintay. At ako naman, buong ningning na nagpapakitang-gilas. Batid ko ang ngiti sa iyong labi sa tuwing iwawasiwas ko ang aking sumasagitsit na buntot.
Tuwang-tuwa ka. At ako, ganoon din.
Halos dalawang dekada tayong naglalandian sa ganitong paraan. Ikaw, walang puknat sa pagmamasid kahit pa malalim na ang gabi. Ako naman, walang pagod sa pag-rampa sa kalawakan ng langit para lamang mapaligaya ka sa ilang gabi na ako’y iyong mapapanood.
Masaya na tayong dalawa sa ating kapalaran. Alam nating hindi tayo kailanman magkakatuluyan. Ang laki ng tanda ko sa iyo. Ilang bilyong taon din ang agwat natin. Ngunit nagkakaunawaan tayo gayunpaman.
Ito ang ating Pandango sa Ilaw. Ito ang ating sayaw.
Ngunit naglaho ang lahat nang ika’y nagka-nobyo. Oo, wala ka pa ring puknat sa pagmamasid sa tuwing ako’y dadalaw. Ngunit naging masakit ang bawat tagpo natin sa dahilang kasama mo na siyang nagmamasid sa akin.
Wala naman akong magawa. Hindi ako maaaring lumihis sa landas na aking tinatahak. Itinadhana ito ni Bathalang Araw.
Kaya ganoon na lang ang nangyari. Masakit para sa akin ang makita ka. Ngunit nababanaag ko pa rin ang dati mong ngiti. Kahit paano naiibsan ang matindi kong sama ng loob.
Hanggang dumating sa gabing kayo’y nagtalik ng iyong nobyo matapos ninyong pagmasdan ang muli kong pag-rampa. Masakit, aaminin ko. Ngunit matagal na akong nasasaktan. Dumating na sa pagkakataong hindi mo na ako masasaktan pa ng labis sa aking nararamdaman. Ngunit dahil mahal kita, lalo kong pinag-ningning ang aking buntot hanggang sa magliwanag ang buong kalangitan.
Napamangha kita. Napamangha ko kayong dalawa. Naaninag ko ang hubad ninyong mga katawan. Masakit para sa akin ngunit naroon muli ang iyong ngiti. Sino bang umiibig ang hindi maglalaho ang sama ng loob sa ganoong pangitain?
Dumaan ang marami pang taon. Ika’y naging ganap nang babae. Kaliwa’t kanan ang nobyo. At isa ka ng sikat na artista. Ako’y iyo nang unti-unting nalimutan. Hinangad kong limutin ka na rin ngunit naging mahirap ito. Ngunit tuloy ang aking pag-guhit sa langit kahit wala ka na upang pagmasdan ako.
At ngayon ako’y matanda na. Wala na ang aking dating kinang. Wala na ang aking buntot. Wala na ang dati kong liksi. Wala man sa aking kapangyarihan ang pumili ng sarili kong landas, nararamdaman ko na batid ni Bathalang Araw ang tunay na nais ko sa huling mga araw ko,
Unti-unti, lumihis ang aking landas, patungo sa iyong bughaw na mundo. Unti-unti, naramdaman ko ang matinding init sa aking mukha. Unti-unti naaninag ko ang pamilyar na bubong.
At sa unang pagkakataon, nagkaharap tayo. Sa ilang saglit nabatid ko na mabilis na napawi ang takot sa iyong mukha. Sa huling pagkakataon nakita ko muli ang iyong ngiti. At sa isang iglap tayo’y naging isa.
At ang huli kong narinig, isang masiglang sigaw ng “DARNA!”
December 17th, 2010 at 10:41
I have known him ever since I can remember. That is to say I only started remembering my life when I met him. Everything else that came before that were blurry recollections of things that had no meaning.
I was going home one day after school when I bumped into him. He looked at me with his big bright eyes and then he hugged me. I was so surprised that I failed to react. I must have stood there for a full minute before I struggled out of his arms and slapped him. I ran across the street oblivious to the incoming traffic and rode the first bus that I saw.
For one whole week, right after school, I would see him waiting for me at the school gate and every time I walk out of the gate and he starts following me I would ran across the street and get on a bus. He never followed me that far; he just stood there and watched as I disappear.
The next week I did not see him, the week after that I started looking for him. I thought I was crazy for looking for a person that I had been trying to avoid weeks before. However, looking back at those days when he was following me I saw in his eyes an enigmatic sadness that I could not forget and it drew me to him. For a strange reason I wanted him to be happy and imagining him finally smile brought tears to my eyes.
The next day I stood at the school gate and waited. In the evening, he appeared and when he saw me, he froze. He kept trying to speak but no words were coming out of his mouth. The silence was frustrating and I just had to break it so I spoke the first thought that came to my mind.
“Where have you been?” I said. It was very inappropriate and I said it with so much sincerity and concern that I blushed.
“I was just looking for someone…I…I’m sorry the other day…for hugging you. I just thought that you were my sister. I tried to apologize but you were running away from me”
That first conversation which extended until the late in the evening was informative:
First, I learned that his sister had been missing for years and he was constantly having hallucinations; seeing his sister’s face on people.
Second, I learned–when he slipped by saying that she flew away from home and after insistent prodding he admitted–that they are not human.
Third, that I didn’t run while screaming ‘aliens’ proved what had been bothering me during those days when I was imagining him: I cared for him and so I promised to help him.
For months, we searched the whole of Manila, going to orphanages, filing missing person reports. Months turned into years, we went to radio and television stations, ran notices in print ads. I graduated from college and still we couldn’t find her. All the while, my feelings for him changed. What had been a childish fascination turned to a womanly desire. My yearning to make him happy by finding his sister had become a mere pretence so that I can be with him. The worst of all I wished that he will never be able to find his sister because that means one thing: he will fly back home.
But my dreams soon came to an end when he found his sister. I didn’t know how or where but one day when he met me, she was with him and he was smiling. It brought tears to my eyes; for once I saw that he was genuinely happy.
The next day he said they would be going back.
“I knew this will happen so I cannot complain,” I said. I was trying to hold back my tears but the sorrow was too much and I let it fell. I looked at him and saw that he too was crying.
“I will be coming back after a week, I will just send my sister back and come back. Don’t worry we travel twice the speed of light and we take wormholes”.
With those last words, I bid them goodbye and started waiting.
One week passed and I waited outside our house where he said he would be landing. Hours passed, evening came and he still had not arrived. The weeks turned to months. (Maybe he missed one or two wormholes) Then months turned to years. (Maybe he isn’t coming back)
I was 30 when I married my husband, my parents gave the house to me as their wedding present. We had three children. I thought that a happy family would erase all memories of the past but the longing wouldn’t go away.
Our children eventually married, moved out of the house and had children of their own.
After 35 years of marriage, my husband died of leukaemia. In his funeral, I confessed that although I loved him there’s one man who had never left my heart.
Every night I sit alone at the porch still waiting but gradually losing hope. You know that you have a miserable life when you start inviting death because you think that your life had lost its meaning. So, for the last time I closed my eyes and waited, not for him, but for death…
“Is that you?” said a voice
I cursed whoever that was for disturbing my death. Can’t I die in peace? I opened my eyes and squinted at the blurry silhouette. It moved nearer.
“It is you”
The silhouette turned out to be him, a young version of him
“Are you his grandson?” I asked
“No, it is me”
I looked at him and he was right. It was he, with his big bright eyes.
The emotions that all these years were left unanswered finally reached out and I burst into tears.
“I waited 45 years for you to come back”
“I was only away for a week as I promised!”
“I could not have grown this old in a week”
“I could not have remained this young for 45 years”
* * * *
That night was eerie to say the least. I swore I was only away for a week and yet there she was showing the pictures of her family. I tried to read what she was thinking. There was a look of contentment but her eyes had an infinite sadness that I can only wish to comprehend.
I got up from the sofa and went to her bedroom to wake her up. She never did.
There was a computer on her desk that was still open. She was reading an article and highlighted an article: twin paradox.
December 17th, 2010 at 21:21
Oops. I tried. Here it goes.
***
Our cheer dance practice finished way behind my curfew. It was 3 AM, and when our group dispersed to various directions, I decided to go to the nearest convenience store along Taft Avenue. I was so thirsty that I cannot come up with an excuse to tell my mom why I was coming home so late. So there I was, walking with my shorts under my skirt, my paper bags stuffed with ropes and pompoms, and my sticky hair tied high with a straw.
There were only five people inside the convenience store, including myself, the sleepy guard, and the sleeping cashier at the register, so it was hard not to notice a tall man doing a sign language to an elderly woman squinting at him intently. The tall man, despite his lack of mass, was an eye-catcher; he was wearing a white Elvis costume with a pompadour that seemed so real, so maybe it was his hair after all. He looked Japanesey, maybe in his late twenties, has broad shoulders that made his lower limbs look like they were just an extension of the frills hanging from his upper garment, and pale skin with a grayish tint. I figured he must have attended a corporate party and was out to buy a bottle of water, which I gathered from the way he was doing these movements suggesting that he was thirsty.
The woman got a small bottle of mineral water from the fridge and showed it to him, but the man pointed to a larger one. The woman gave out chuckle and shook her head. She pulled out a decaying 20 peso bill from her pocket, handed both the money and small bottle to him, and walked off.
The woman brushed against my shoulder as I marched towards the fridge. She whispered to me, or rather to herself, that the man must have lost his wallet. I wanted to ask more about the man, how they met, his nationality, what was he doing in that costume, but I held back. Apparently, they didn’t know each other. I went on, but the man was blocking the fridge door. He was staring at the bottle of water and money in his hands.
Maybe it was the man’s naïveté that made me feel something fuzzy for him, so I decided to buy us both one liter bottles of water. I gave him the other bottle and told him that I was going to pay for it. He stared at me, like he was just looking past through me, and I was annoyed. I was doing him a favor, and the least that he could do was to show a little appreciation. I made my way to pay for his and my water despite my exasperation, and he said something at my back that sounded French.
I don’t understand French, but he had a soft, lulling accent, so I assumed he was speaking that language. I didn’t catch what he said so I just turned my head sideways and smiled. He went outside while I was paying, and as I went out of the convenience store, I noticed that he left the smaller bottle and money given to him by the woman on a table.
I had this urge to follow him. I kept some distance good enough for me not to be noticed. He had a weird gait; he walked with his right shoulder higher than the other, and one foot covered a longer step than the other. He was walking absorbedly, bottle in his hands, and I was fascinated with it, which is odd since this can happen any day. I tagged on, and after a few more blocks, he crossed the street, and that was when I realized he was headed for Luneta Park.
The playground was devoid of people. There weren’t even beggars sleeping nearby. Near the swings, there was an egg-shaped facility that he started fumbling over as soon as he got there. I thought it was a fancy bench, until he opened the bottle of water that I bought him and poured its contents inside one of the egg’s compartment. I realized this egg-shaped thing was a machine, what with lights inside it blinking and a soft humming coming from it. I listened to the gurgling sound of the bottle being emptied until he said my name.
Spica. I was stunned. Spica, Spica. So he knew I was following him all along. He even knew my name. I felt he was strangely harmless, so I mustered enough strength to walk and to acknowledge him. Sorry, yes? He turned around, a bit flustered, empty bottle in his hand. I searched for his eyes, which were mere slits, but it was a little dark. He started talking in that French accent again as he moved towards me. He reached out his hand, as if to invite me inside the egg, and it was at then I figured he wasn’t speaking French. It was like a hybrid of Japanese and any South American language, but spoken in the mildest manner.
And all the time he was talking, a second pair of nostrils flared out on either side of the bridge of his nose. They disappeared into nearly invisible lines whenever he paused. I figured he was delivering an extended thank you speech, until he said my name again and looked at the sky.
That was when I realized he wasn’t even calling me in the first place. He was referring to that Virgoan star. He thoughtfully stared at the moonless sky for a minute, and then averted his gaze towards me. His eyes started to give out an amethyst glow. My heart started to beat like a wild African drum, but I wasn’t afraid of that man. He wasn’t human, but I felt I could have gone with him if I wasn’t too mesmerized to take his hand, ride with him inside that egg, and disappear into the night sky.