Dreaming of Dancing Burritos

I had such a nice day. It was actually spent doing something nice that I shouldn’t mention here or else it may be used against me in the near future. I would say that I had sex with two hot bisexual guys, but that’s not the case. Nor is it my idea of a happy wappy day.

*gets shot by lightning* omfgwtfhax0rzzzz!!!

In any case the happy wappy mood got marred when I played errand girl again and bought chicken for dinner, just outside the subdivision. One of the things that got to my nerves–even after I managed to buy the chicken without incident–was that I was about to miss Gundam Seed Destiny, and the tricycle cue was a tad long.

So as consolation I took the change from the chicken money for myself and bought Diet Coke from the local Mini-Stop (hello pow, Ate Annie o.o/). I stood in line for the poor man’s private limo service cue, glancing at my watch from time to time. 8.20 pm. Omfg.

Halfway through the line, I got so antsy that I decided to just listen to music. I wore my headset, turned on my MP3 and tried to calm down, my jaw set.

I was mentally bopping to the tune The Moon and the Prince when I heard some irritating pubescent voice say “Tang’na mu!” behind my back. I just shrugged it off, since beggar boys were littering the streets just outside our subdivision. Needless to say, the outburst went into one ear and went out through the other one.

“Bingi ang puta oh, haha! Putang ina mo!”

I was startled, “bingi” being the word that acted as the IRQ switch that forced me to pay attention. You see, there’s a reason why I bought a headset earlier this afternoon. The SE Walkman earplugs were to be literally plugged into the ears, thus eliminating 90% (an estimate, of course) of external noise while the audiophile drowns himself in music. Which is good, of course, except when walking outside. It sure feels good whenever you reach the final belt of the chorus of a certain song, but it will be for naught if said audiophile ends up being a puddle of mashed meat on the street.

The headset does nothing of the sort. I can turn up the volume at full blast and still hear the cacophony around me, since it does not totally block my ears from external sound, and thus I digress a bit too far from my topic.

“Bingi ang puta oh, haha! Putang ina mo!”

“Hoy! Gaga! Alis! Buti na lang di to nakakarinig!”

I’d love to blame the parents, however I thought this was the sort of kid for whom any form of scolding or corporal punishment would not work. This was the sort of miscreant for whom his mother would just shake her head in utter defeat, and leave her child’s fate to the law of the streets. No fault of anybody’s, I’m sure, but that’s Life.

And so I discreetly shake my still unopened Diet Coke can. Shake, shake.

“Bingi!”

Sighing, I turned around and faced the widdle kid. About ten years old. Scruffy yellow shirt with a print of what could be the Red Ranger, after he was raped by an entire baseball team, along with the coach and the wiener-shaped mascot.

And I promptly opened the can of righteous cola into his face.

*FIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZ*

Rightful retribution? Not. Such a waste of good cola, because that kid’s almost hopeless, and most probably has a low chance for survival in a world where staring boredly at the man sitting opposite you in a jeepney would slap you with a death warrant.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 5th, 2006 at 7:42 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.