Archive for the tales Category

which way to happy?

Posted in tales on July 7, 2010 by armedlittleboy

They offered me sunflower seeds a little apologetically, these small Japanese girls in pink kimonos. All three of them entered the room holding the big black bowl of seeds, with their feet making small shuffling noises against the polished wooden floor. Carefully, they placed the bowl in front of me, right at the center of the bamboo table and shyly exited the room.

I looked at the bowl intently, trying to conjure the flowers that might have been. I imagined the yellows and the browns and the petals and the leaves. A tear rolled down my left cheek, evaporating even before it reached my chin. I tried to follow it up with a more substantial tear but my tear duct refused, so I just compensated for it by adopting a gloomy disposition.

After a while, a song disrupted my solitude, striding carelessly into the room and standing uncomfortably near me. It leaned towards me to look unabashedly into my face. Helplessly, I started singing it, quietly at first but louder and louder as I lost myself into its presence. By the end of the song I was shouting, which caused the small Japanese girls in pink kimonos to rush into the room. I stared at them helplessly, gasping and red in the face with the effort of singing. Frowning, they approached the song, clubbed it with a 12-inch black dildo and dragged it outside the room. They smiled apologetically as they exited.

Left alone, I once again looked into the bowl of sunflower seeds and lost myself thinking of why there are seeds that become flowers and why there are flowers that are reduced into seeds.


si nanay (hindi ito based sa mga tunay na pangyayari. promise)

Posted in tales on June 17, 2010 by armedlittleboy

Nilitanya ni nanay kanina ang mga perwisyo sa kanyang buhay. Nakuha ko ang ika-apat na pwesto, pagkatapos ni aling inday na aming labandera na nasa ikatlo, ang palaging nasisira na telepono sa ikalawa, at si tatay na nakuha ang pinakamataas na parangal. Hindi na ako umasa na mananalo sa listahan dahil alam ko naman na runaway winner na si tatay, no contest kumbaga. Perfect 10! Knockout! Sure win!

Bakit ba naman siya matatalo eh multiple title holder na siya. Lasenggero, sabungero, sugalero, babaero, gago, tarantado, loko-loko, at kung ano pang nagtatapos sa o. Yan eh according sa nanay ko na medyo nagiging bias kapag naghihimay ng toge na iluluto. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang meron sa mga toge na sa tuwing uupo siya upang himayin ay bigla na lang siyang maglalabas ng kanyang mga sama ng loob. Para bang sa bawat paghimay ng toge ay hinihimay na rin niya ang kanyang saloobin sa buhay. Mabuti kamo at minsan sa isang buwan lang kami mag-ulam ng toge sa bahay.

Kadalasan kasi ay nagpapaksiw lang siya ng bangus o ng kanduli o ng ayungin o kung ano man ang pwedeng ipaksiw. Favourite kasi ng aso namin ang paksiw. Ayoko ng paksiw. Ergo, hindi ako ang favourite ni nanay. Matagal ko rin pinag-isipan kung bakit hindi ako ang favourite considering na ako lang naman ang anak niya, hanggang sa hindi na kinaya ng utak ko at tinanong ko na lang siya kung bakit mas pinili niya ang aso, hindi siya sumagot at sa halip ay kinuha niya ang isang supot ng toge mula sa ref. Mabilis akong umalis sa paningin niya. Mahirap na.

dementia in the house

Posted in tales on April 18, 2010 by armedlittleboy

a few years before he died, he lost his mind. not just his sanity, but his entire fucking mind, with all the abilities and functions it once possessed. not the best way to go if you asked me and certainly not the best way to spend the last years of your life. sometimes i catch myself wondering when he really left us, on when he really died. was it the moment that his heart stopped beating or was it that instance when the last of his thoughts faded away and he became a mere symbol of what has been, not much different to tombstones, urns, and monuments (albeit a walking and breathing one)?

looking back, no one really knows how it started. some say it began with the flaring of temper, others say the shuffling of papers ushered it, while still others believe it started during his season of drought when he stopped taking a bath and his skin dried up. but come to think of it, when one already knows the ending, is it really important to figure out how it began? all we really have to know is that its not an easy journey the moment it started and it gets worse towards the end. like a storm setting up the stage for a major catastrophe with darkening clouds and powerful winds, he started the tragedy with small inconsequential, irritating, but still bearable idiosyncrasies. he started becoming obsessed with locking doors, gates, and drawers, accumulating papers and documents folded numerous times in his pockets, slamming unlocked doors, and folding and unfolding his clothes in the cabinet.

no one of course paid attention to these things. we all lock doors, fold papers, and arrange our clothes. there was nothing beyond normal about it at that time. until the shouting began. he shouted at everyone: his kids, his wife, his mother. and that’s when we began to suspect that something is happening that should not be happening. but before we know it, the tragedy is upon us and there is nothing we can do but sit back and watch as the painful story unfolds.

as his weird habits start gaining momentum, occupying his hours and filling up his days, his memories are slowly being shoved out of the way. again, no one knows for sure which memory was the first to go, but everyone is certain that the first ones to be hauled off into oblivion are those memories that matter: the name of his mother, his siblings, his kids, their anniversary as a couple, her birthday, his years of growing up, his friends. He would come across his mother and not know who she is, he will smile at his kids but could not remember their names, and he would sit beside his wife but did not know when, how, and why he love her.

but those were just memories. things we do, bonds we make, relationships we build, so that someday when we get too old to do things, make bonds, build relationships, we have something to remember, something to help us get by while we sit on that rocking chair awaiting for the setting of the sun. there are much more vital things that a person can forget. things that i thought no one can forget until he did. one day he just forgot how to drive a car, forgot how to read, forgot how to use a remote control, forgot how to lock a door, forgot how to sit on the urinal to poop, forgot how to use a spoon and fork, and eventually, to our utter surprise, forgot how to chew. all he did remember was how to lie down.

at that time, whenever i see him from my bedroom window, i could not help but think: who are you now? now that there is nothing left to try to figure out? who are you who looks like a person but does not have the things that make a person a person? who are you and who are we in relation to you?

several years have already passed. his shell has finally left us. i did not know if there was grief or whether there was relief at that moment. it seems we have mourned for him way in advance, back when his memories have died. we prayed for his soul, we buried his body, we consoled the family. everything seems mechanical now. going through the steps to make a passing away official. he have of course died a long time ago, but still, we need to do these things to seal this long-playing tragedy. put an end to the story. and hopefully, like him, to forget.


Posted in tales on March 30, 2010 by armedlittleboy

i woke up with a start. there was blackness everywhere. totally black. the lights from the street that usually seep through my bedroom are nowhere to be found. there was no moon, no stars. there was nothing except the blackness. at first i thought i was just dreaming, so i fluttered my eyelids. i blinked repeatedly. then i curled my fingers. i moved my legs. i touched my face. i am awake. i am sure of it. i am awake in the middle of this blackness. this blackness so black, so thorough, it seems like a solid mass of black matter that can be sliced into pieces and served like pies.
still lying, i turned my head to the right, i stared up, i faced my left. all black. if not for the pillows and the blanket against me and the weight of my body on the bed, i would have thought i am floating in a sea of nothingness. at a loss, i called out “hello?”. nothing. i called out again this time drawing out each syllable “heeeee-llooooooooo?” still nothing. its just me and the blackness. i raised myself up partially. at a loss of what to do i remained half sitting, half-lying on my bed for several minutes, or hours maybe, i am not sure. time seems to have been pushed out of existence to make space for all this blackness.
then suddenly, right in front of me, a whooshing sound is emitted and a circular hole the size of a coin opened up. this nothingness, this blackness, has opened its mouth, a hole so black that it rendered the surrounding blackness into dawn. slowly, the hole started rotating. with each rotation, it became bigger and bigger until it became the size of my head.
unable to control myself, i peered into the hole but i could not see anything. there is only nothing and no more. not knowing why, i put my head into the hole to get a better glimpse of nothing and all at once a great and terrifying force started sucking my head into the hole. taken by surprise, i could not do anything but grasped at the edges of the hole as my head gets sucked into its depths. i could feel the skin of my face being pulled away from me and my neck strain to the limit as my body tries its very best to hold unto my head. the pain was terrible. my fingers are getting numb from holding on. my body is getting weak from resisting.
i let go. and swoosh i went through its mouth. i floated into blackness. i was weightless. there was nothing. i was floating in nothing. i tried to move but all i can do is flail helplessly. tired, i let myself float while staring at the blackness. i stared at it until i had my fill. until it had filled me. until the blackness that enveloped me is inside me. and then i floated once more. i am floating into blackness, into nothingness and i am one with it.


Posted in tales on January 24, 2010 by armedlittleboy

with a quarter of the water left, i put the sunflower in the mineral water bottle and placed it by my bedside. i lay on the bed and stared at it, willing for it to talk. the wind kept chasing my memories through the open windows. what is it that makes us hold on, refusing to let go? as i dive deeper into the yellowness of the flower’s petals, i understood how it is to be a sunflower that is always chasing the sun. the pure yellowness makes it all worth it.