random thoughts, musings and workings of a totally warped mind. tintin is a colorblind writer who paints,dreams of flying a kite along EDSA, teaches middle & high school writing & literature, and is the future mother of Kulay and Una Rosa Maria.

Friday, February 27, 2004

War-freak Tintin

I punched a 13-year old boy when I was 12.

I, my brother and sister along with other kids in the neighborhood were playing kickball one summer afternoon. I was the captain of my team,and no wonder, I could kick a mean ball and break those bulbs hanging above the street. Neighbors would complain to my Tatay that I broke yet another bulb or shattered a window because "nag-kickball na naman ho ang apo n'yo Mang Pepe" ("your granddaughter played kickball again, Mang Pepe"). Some parents would even threathen to file a formal complaint in the Barangay. I was good, what the heck. I thought their kids urged them to report on me so no one could beat them anymore. But I digress.

This 13-year old SOB named PJ was mocking my brother because he couldn't join us play that day. MY bro was having an asthma attack. PJ called him names; "lampa" "ban-ban" (wimp). PJ even kept shoving my brother away.

Me: "Oi, PJ tigilan mo yang kapatid ko!" (Hey,bastard, leave my brother alone!)

PJ: "Eh lampa naman talaga `to eh! (He's a wimp,really)" then threw the red plastic ball on my face

I tasted blood on my lips, curled my right palm into a fist, and calmly tapped PJ's shoulder.

Me: "PJ..."

as he turned around, I punched him on the nose, remembering Popeye and the way he would cream Brutus(Bluto?).

Well, I got grounded for a week and my Tatay had to pay for PJ's medical bill. He, er, I broke his nose.

But I was damn proud. Oh and I uttered the first expletive of my life then. Saying "pu@%!na ka,wag mong aanuhin kapatid ko!" (you,motherfckr,you! Never mess up with my brother!) was divine.

Fast-forward War-freak Tintin

I took a cab to work today. I told the driver to pass through a mall near my place so we could take the short cut. Two security guards were on their posts along the gate entrance doing the routine check of vehicles passing by. The guard on the left side, signalled "go", meaning they wouldn't check our cab anymore. But the guard on the right, kicked the cab's rear and shouted "hoy, come back!"

The cab driver explained the other guard told us to go ahead that's why we stopped. He would have willingly pulled over and opened his trunk had he been told to do so.

But this wise-ass guard started to harass the poor driver, shoving him off, cursing at him. I didn't mind him at first.

But when this frigging guard looked inside the cab and pointed at me, I couldn't take it anymore. I got off.

Me: "ano bang problema mo, ha? why are you harrassing my driver?"
take note the possessive pronoun.hehe.

Guard:"anong harrass? eh,gago yan eh"
Me; "Mama, sinabihan kami nung kasama mo na tumuloy na kaya di kami huminto. Tapos sisipain mo `tong sasakyan at mumurahin mo sya? Anong problema mo?" (Mister,your colleague told us to go ahead that's why we didnt stop then you kicked the cab and began verbally abusing him!)

Guard:"eh,bakit ba,ikaw ba drayber?" (why,are you the driver?)

Me:"eh,luku-luko ka pala eh. Hindi nga ako ang driver pero di ka dapat bastos. Ang tanda na nga nyang driver eh!"(you're crazy. I know I'm not the driver. You're an asshole who doesnt know the meaning of the word respect)

Guard: walks away

Me: pulls his arm to me

"hoy,inabala mo na rin naman ako. wag kang bastos ha!"

Guard: moves his hand to show the gun on his belt

Me: reads his name badge

"Mr. Agdao, wag kang mambabastos sa susunod. I live near this mall and you bet Im coming back. I hope not to see you here by then."

By this time, there were a lot of onlookers already,and the queue of vehicles was already spilling.

When I got back to the cab, the manong driver said, "ang tapang nyo pala, Ma'am"

I was seething, fuming mad. But I know I won.

Ok,ok. I got scared too. A little. hehe. He could have shot me. But what the heck, I know I scared the shit out of him,too.

Nice Friday payday. Except that we aren't getting paid again.

But you know what? I feel fine, baby.

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