View Full Version : mga kwentong sinulat habang sabog at/o lasing
2nd Jun 2007, 17:18
konting short stories lang hehe
My Weirdest Dream Yet
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Naruto, Super Mario, the Jordan Brand. They are owned by their respective owners (yes) Ü
I woke up in a strange bed. The indentation by my side told me that I didn’t sleep alone. Now who is she? I can’t remember. Heck, I do hope she’s a she and not…
A door opened, and I looked. There she was, an ugly motherfucker, skin almost looked like it was rotting.
I must have been so tanked last night to sleep with that.
“Hey babe,” I said, hopefully the start of a very short conversation.
She didn’t reply. Instead she gave a guttural sound and slowly walked towards the bed, her arms outstretched as if in, in what?
What the fuck, she wants more?
“Look babe, I really have to go. I have this, uhm, thing at this, place. I gotta meet this dude…” I said, futile excuses.
Her arms still outstretched, she walked. I was ready to give her a goodbye peck on the cheek when she grabbed my shoulders. Her hands felt ice cold. No, colder than ice.
What the… this isn’t right.
She moved to bite me.
I immediately jumped away. Surprised at my own agility, I quickly sidestepped her and got out the door.
Shit, she looks just like a…
I pushed the button for the elevator. The down arrow won’t light. Of all the days…
Taking three to four steps at a time, I finished going down the stairs in a hurry. I opened the door, eager to escape my erstwhile love interest’s icy love bite.
I didn’t notice them immediately. I closed my eyes and took in the warm sunshine and the fresh city air. When I opened my eyes I got the shock of my life.
Surrounding me were hundreds, maybe thousands of zombies.
They were all looking at me. With dead eyes. Hungry eyes. Dead hungry eyes.
Ever so slowly they walked towards me. Many of them had missing appendages. Some looked to be at least dead for three days. What does a three-day old corpse look like? I immediately dismissed the futile thought as I tried to think of what to do. They were moving closer.
I slapped my forehead in desperation, and was shocked that my hand met a metallic object. I removed the metal thing on my forehead. It was a forehead protector. Straight from Naruto.
I’ve been watching too much of that shit. Still I felt somehow different, as if I had chakra. What, me? A ninja? Where was I last night, a costume party? I looked at my clothes. I looked nothing like the characters on Naruto. Why the forehead protector, then? And what hidden village is this symbol?
The zombies’ guttural cries for brains or whatever snapped me from my reverie. One or twenty of them were about ten feet away. Faster than I could ever imagine I moved, giving them kicks, well-placed punches, and head butts. My movements, too fast for ordinary humans, were simply lightning to these slow zombies.
On last count I dispatched about two hundred zombies. Yet more were coming at me, pouring out of buildings. Shit I have to do something better.
Out of pure instinct I made a hand gesture. Suddenly about two-dozen copies of myself appeared, each with independent thought, but still under my command.
Fire at will.
I stood there in the center of my self-made shield. Copies of myself were killing scores of the undead. But one was bitten. In a puff of smoke that copy of myself disappeared.
I, or at least the copies of myself, were good, but there were simply too many of these zombies. One by one my copies disappeared. Still the undead kept appearing out of buildings, like in WarCraft.
Shit gotta stop playing that game too. Besides, they, whoever they are, need to summon more ziggurats to have that many undead.
Only I, the original me, was left. What to do, what to do…
I suddenly jumped up, way, way higher than a trampoline-aided Super Mario could ever hope to jump. Making more of the hand gestures I blew a great, huge, elephantine, gargantuan, mammoth flame from my mouth. I aimed at the zombies.
Cool, I could do Naruto’s and Sasuke’s signature jutsus. And I’m as fast as Rock Lee.
I was still going up. I held on to the side of the building. Amazing thing, this chakra. The fire I made continued to burn. The zombies’ guttural cries lessened.
After what seemed an eternity the fire stopped burning. To my dismay there were still a considerable number of zombies. And the buildings kept belching out more. Much more. I was fresh out of ideas. Without warning a hand clutched my shoulder. I looked behind me. A zombie was in the room where I was hanging from. I tried to escape, but its grip was too strong…
“Hoy. Hoooy. HOOOY!!!”
I woke up. Where’s that fucking zombie? I cautiously opened my eyes. The TV in front of me was still playing a Naruto DVD. At the nearby PC my cousin was playing WarCraft.
“You were shouting in your sleep. Are you all right?” another of my cousins said.
“Well, yes, I guess,” I said.
“You were shouting Japanese words in your sleep.”
“Was I?” I switched off the DVD.
4th Jun 2007, 23:32
Shaking off the rain from his umbrella, Miguel hurried to the elevator. The bland "PING" of the contraption announced that he was locked out. Miguel emitted an angry sound as he waited for the next available elevator. What a day, he thought. No breakfast, pelted by rain, overcharged by a rude and smelly cab driver, stepped on dirty mud (versus the good, clean mud from his childhood), these seemed to be one of those days. Even the elevators were conspiring against him.
Just then, his lovely "buildingmate", his crush, his fantasy, a breathtaking vision working as a telemarketer from the 8th floor, an enchanting woman whose beauty no words can describe, stood beside him.
"Hey". Her voice was smoother than silk, sweeter than honey-dipped chocolate.
"Hi." Miguel was usually smooth with the ladies, but this was different. For once he felt like a high school loser.
"Are you gonna use the elevator?"
But she is stupid, Miguel thought. What else would I be doing here? But he noticed that none of the "Up" buttons were pressed.
"Oh yeah, forgot to push this", he said lamely as he frantically pressed one of the "Up" buttons. I'm such a lame-o, he thought. She smiled at him. For those precious smiles, I should do more embarassing things, Miguel thought.
Another "PING" sounded, telling those who care that an elvator is ready. Both Miguel and the lovely telemarketer entered. He shifted from foot to foot nervously. Her perfume was intoxicating. The door closed. Mirrors were everywhere. He resisted the temptation to look at her body, lest she think him a pervert. These mirrors should be removed, they are too much of a temptation, he mused.
"What floor are you?" At last, he managed to sound like a gentleman.
"Eight. You're Miguel, right?" He pushed 8, and promptly forgot to push his floor.
"Why yes. And you are?" Wow she knows my name!
"I'm Tricia. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand. A jolt of electricity that one only reads about in those cheap romance novels coursed through his body as he and she shook hands. Yet she seems unaffected. With the effect she was having on him, she shouldn't be a telemarketer, Miguel thought. She should sell personally. A stampede is guaranteed.
"The pleasure's mine. How do you know my name?"
"My friend Anne told me about you."
Was that a mischievous smile, Miguel thought as he searched his memory for an Anne or Ann or Anna. There's one he met at a job interview, then there's that wild Anne he met at the university fair. Then there's the one he met a bus when he was going home to the province... He can't remember an Anne/Ann/Anna or any name combination (like Mary Anne) that can be associated with Tricia, his vision of beauty. No, that's not a mischievous smile, she's just oozing with sex appeal. Heck, maybe even if she waded thru mud while wearing overalls she would look sexy.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember..."
"Oh, her name's Faye, my officemate, but her nickname's Anne... I dunno why they call her Anne though." Again with that smile.
Oh, THAT Anne! He met her at a bar, turned out they worked at the same building. One thing led to another... And he didn't call her. In retrospect, what a big mistake, Miguel thought.
"So what did she tell you about me?" He tried lamely. He knew he was already blown off before he even busted out all his moves. Wonder what terrible things Faye/Anne told her.
"She told me you were good." And just like that, she grabbed his head and kissed her. He kissed her back. Yup, that definitely was a mischievous smile.
Yet another "PING" heralded their arrival at the 8th floor. She fixed her hair as he just stood there, dazed. Wow, I just kissed the most beautiful woman in the world, he thought excitedly.
"See you after 5.", Tricia said softly, smiling that mischievous smile. And just before the elevator door closed, she winked. A promise of more.
Needless to say, Miguel did not get any work done.
11th Jun 2007, 11:05
“Goodbye. Have a nice day at work,” Emma said as the door with flaking paint closed.
Emma sipped her instant decaf coffee. It was morning. The potted plant at the corner was withered, wanting more water. Emma laid her cup at a cheap flea-market table. The plastic flower centerpiece was, as always, radiant as ever.
She lived the typical middle class life on the way down. When they married, she and her husband were full of hope, weaving dreams of a comfortable life, with maybe three cars in the garage, a vacation chateau somewhere near the beach, and a few kids that would inevitably mess up the well-appointed living room that was carefully and elegantly designed by a famous interior designer.
Emma sighed as she took another sip of the instant decaf. She looked around. Their apartment was cramped. A table was so used that its original color was indeterminable. A chair doubled as a clothes hamper. The ceiling fan was broken and missing half a blade. The TV can only get five channels. The couch’s skin was peeling, revealing dirty foam. Emma took another sip to calm her nerves.
This was not the life she envisioned. This was not what she was promised. Her husband was an heir of a sizeable sum. She was already dreaming of a new car, perhaps a boob job, when her husband’s inheritance was snatched away, just like that.
But she stuck it out. Thru thick and thin, as they say. She held on to her husband, despite every failed business venture, despite every foolish decision, despite every small thing she found wrong in her husband.
At last, she’s had it. Her friends went on to marry rich husbands and lead richer lives. While they wore designer clothes and obscenely large jewels, she wore knock-offs and jewels so perfect they were obviously fake. While her friends drove foreign cars that purred like kittens, she rode cabs. While her friends vacationed at places so exotic she drooled, she just stayed at home.
She consulted a lawyer about what can be done to get her husband’s inheritance. The lawyer, after hearing her story, was unimpressed. He said that there is little to no chance that they will get the inheritance. Instead he, ever so subtly, suggested that she get a divorce.
After a few meetings with her lawyer, Emma realized that he was in love with her. She also found out that he was already a successful lawyer, one of the youngest partners at his law firm, and already piling up the money. One thing led to another, and soon they were sleeping together. Emma was thinking of what her lawyer said: divorce. Maybe she should divorce her husband and stick with her lawyer, she thought. She loved her husband dearly, but by golly, she needed the money.
She was waiting for her lawyer to knock on her door.
Greg woke up early. He changed into old sweats and did 30 minutes on the treadmill, followed by a session with the StairMaster. He cooled off by punching the heck out his punching bag.
He prepared eggs over easy, bacon, and toast. He selected a few choice oranges and quickly made some fresh orange juice. After that breakfast, he made some fresh arabica. Given a few months, he can soon buy that cat shit coffee that everyone’s raving about.
Greg was a lawyer on the rise. He breezed thru his undergraduate degree in three years, and graduated at the top of his class in law school, earning what was the highest GPA in recent memory, and scored the highest score in the bar for the last twenty years. To say that he was extremely smart would be a gross understatement.
Which is why he wondered why he acted like a fool when Emma consulted him. One look at her big brown eyes, and Greg knew he was lost. He barely concentrated as she told him of her husband, the lost inheritance, and what can be done. A winnable case, Greg thought. Difficult, but winnable. Only, for a reason he would like to believe to be love, he told her that her husband’s inheritance was truly gone.
He pondered all of this as he drove his customized Japanese beast. He and Emma have talked about divorce, and Emma seemed optimistic. He has already prepared some papers for her to look at.
He parked at his reserved spot. He looked at his car admiringly. The car has stopped, but the rims kept moving. An apt metaphor for my life, Greg thought proudly.
A few minutes later he was at his office. He got the divorce papers ready and informed his 40-year old secretary that he needed copies of the papers. She told him that all off the photocopying machines are out (“Upgrades”, she said). Greg decided to photocopy the papers himself at a local photocopying place. When that’s done, he’ll go straight to Emma’s house as planned. He licked his lips in anticipation.
Herbert walked to the photocopying place merrily. He hummed. He whistled. He felt so good that he almost wanted it to rain, just to prove that not even that can ruin his day. He performed an impromptu dance, ending with one of those jump-and-click-your-feet-together-in-the-air moves that he sees in the old movies that he loves.
He’s just received some good news that will make everyone around him happy. He opened the door at the photocopying center. His usually indifferent co-workers noticed his unusually happy demeanor. Soon his infectious happiness spread throughout the place, bringing smile and the occasional look of suspicion from the center’s customers.
A handsome black Toyota parked in front of the center. A tall man walked out, holding a folder of paper. Herbert greeted this customer happily. The man looked happy, though he looked like he was hurrying.
“Five copies of this please,” the tall man said without even looking up.
“Of course sir.” Herbert got the papers and photocopied them. He accidentally made a mistake and had to redo a copy. That was far from enough to ruin his day though.
He smiled as he handed the tall man his papers. The tall man paid and left. He admired the Toyota as it peeled off.
Some time later he was busy cleaning the scraps of paper that unavoidably pile up in a place such as this. He glanced upon one, the mistake that he made with the tall man in the Toyota’s papers.
He reread the copy again. He was no longer smiling.
Emma, Greg, and Herbert
Emma heard a knock on the door. She opened the door excitedly. In walked Greg. Without further ado, they kissed. A few seconds later the clothes went flying. They made love on the dirty couch, in the same manner that sailors make love to their wives after months at sea: no moment wasted, urgent.
Herbert flung the door open, almost breaking its hinges. He saw Emma and the tall man on the couch. He grabbed a nearby bottle and walked towards them.
Greg did not even blink. Stark naked, he took a chair and started beating Herbert with it. After a few blows he thought, so that’s the lousy photocopying place that Emma’s lousy husband worked at.
Emma was now living in with Greg at his posh apartment. Though she missed Herbert terribly and still confessed that she loved him, she was glad at the way things turned out. Herbert simply cannot provide for her needs. She smiled at Greg, who was busy doing crunches. She was glad that Herbert has recovered from his injuries.
A few weeks later Emma found out that Herbert has received his inheritance, amounting to almost 10 million dollars. Her friends called her and congratulated her on her good fortune. She managed to thank them.
She looked at Greg with contempt. She picked up a knife.
16th Jun 2007, 13:17
Note: with mild sexual theme. pakidelete/move/edit na lang po kung appropriate :D
Rica and her friends were partying at her highly secluded but lavishly furnished “farmhouse” (more of a mansion) near their cornfields. There were the usual party favors: tequila with complimentary worm and slices of lemon, magnums of Cristal for those with more expensive (or pretentious) tastes, kegs of beer, pack upon pack of cigarettes, great food, and the smuggled joint here and there, that line of coke on a shiny mirror, that halved Scoobie Snack. Tonight’s crowd, however, was more subdued, more inclined to story telling and reminiscing than reckless and wanton partying; for tonight were Rica’s high school friends were in the house.
As with many gatherings of this sort, the men and the women formed separate groups. Then those who are partners paired up, talking intimately, holding hands reassuringly, as if they haven’t seen their special someone for a long time. Suddenly, as if someone made a silent signal, all of them congregated at a certain table, where all the friends talked and caught up with each other’s lives.
Eduardo, however, seemed like the odd man out. He brought no girlfriend, not even a date. He sat there pensively, looking on at his old classmates. He did have a smug look on his face, as if he knows something that all of his so-called friends don’t. A former female classmate (still a female, no longer a classmate, not the other way around) steals a glance, looking at Eduardo, as if they shared a secret. Pretty soon another of these women looked at him, this time with a pleading look. Then another. And another.
Eduardo has slept with all of these women. He was (and still is), in fact, quite the lady’s man. He was very low key in high school but, as one of his conquests said, he can talk a turtle out of its shell, or poor Mr. Jenkins (math teacher) out of his precious suspenders. And Eduardo was really a good lover, for he broke many of these poor ladies’ hearts. To be dramatic, many a tear has been shed on sly Eduardo’s account. Some of the looks that he was receiving now, at this party, were very naughty. Very naughty indeed. “Well,” Eduardo thought, “it is a young night, and this party’s all talk.” Why not.
He broke away from the group. Soon Alex broke away from the group, under the pretense of getting more gin.
“What?” Eduardo asked, almost rudely.
Alex just pressed her body against his. Eduardo grabbed her hand and led her upstairs.
It was not long before Alex was moaning with unabated pleasure. “Fuck!” she involuntarily exclaimed as the delicious feeling of ecstasy enveloped her. Eduardo just smiled. Sometimes just giving pleasure is almost as good as getting it. Almost.
Alex smoothed her blouse and matter-of-factly went downstairs and got a glass of gin. Her boyfriend smiled, grabbed the gin, took a quick swig, and smoothed her hair. Someone just told a joke and they all laughed.
He went downstairs and drank some Cristal. “No wonder rappers love this shit,” he thought. It went down his throat smoothly. All of a sudden Georgina, a happily married mom of two, was beside him.
“Hey Ed. Wassup?”
“I wanna tell you somethin’. Ever since we received that invitation from Rica I’ve been thinkin’…”
Eduardo just sipped his Cristal. Make them sweat, he always said.
“You know Ed, we’ve done it like a million times in high school… and maybe…” Georgina looked at Eduardo coyly.
Eduardo searched for Georgina’s husband. Her husband was busy ogling Rica’s breasts.
“Wanna do it?” Shock them, he always said. Georgina was always conservative and shy.
She nodded slightly. They went upstairs. “Georgina must be so deprived at home,” Eduardo thought as he gradually rediscovered the things that Georgina loved. She almost shouted at the critical moment. Georgina wanted to cuddle and make small talk, but Eduardo would have none of that. He has given pleasure twice already this evening. And besides, she’s married.
Georgina discreetly went downstairs. Eduardo found a huge bathroom, one adorned with gold plated faucets and marble sinks. Rica, of course, was the richest of the rich in his high school. He admired the gold-leafed lamps. He then washed his hands and his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Man, you still got it”, he thought. Suddenly he felt so cold. Then it was gone. Eduardo looked around and saw that there was a small open window. He attributed it to the wind. Eduardo went downstairs and outside, where he took out a joint. “Shit, where’s my lighter?” he thought angrily. He was about to open the door when it suddenly opened, hitting him in the nose.
“Shit!” Eduardo said as he rubbed his nose. It was Rica.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Rica said.
They talked. Eduardo has always liked Rica. She was smart in a non-threatening way. Of course, sex has played a big role in their relationship. If he was any judge of character, he enjoyed it as much as Rica did. Sometimes they hooked up after graduation, and he always found her to be a very nice person. In fact, the thought of being serious with her has often crossed his mind. Why Eduardo didn’t pursue the thought, nobody knew. Now she’s seeing someone (“It’s serious this time,” she said), and she announced, if you listen closely, wedding bells can almost be heard. Of course he respected her too much to sleep with her after she said that. But now, outside her plush mansion amidst the cornfields, Rica was obviously coming on to her.
They made love outside, under the stars. Like animals, they generated so much heat that they didn’t notice the cool evening breeze. They fell into the easy rhythm that familiar lovers know. If one has to ask, this encounter was more exciting, more provocative than their previous meetings. Soon they were spent.
Suddenly Eduardo felt cold.
The old friends gathered outside. Someone suggested that they explore the vast cornfields (“Someone take that drink away from him!” another jested). Still, they went outside, perhaps to clear their heads of too much booze and drugs, or perhaps to recapture their youthful spirit, to recapture the time when throwing water balloons at each other was not crazy, when excelling at basketball meant everything. Eduardo thought that they just want to be childish. He wanted to stay at Rica’s mansion beside the fireplace while nursing a bottle of Cristal, but Rica insisted that he come with them, so he went.
They sang some songs as they walked. The stars were so romantic and the air so cool that couples hugged each other. Rica merely held hands with her boyfriend, sometimes looking at Eduardo. Eduardo did not even glance at Rica. He was alone, and felt stupid in this childish walk. He did not sing with them.
Though no wind was blowing, he suddenly felt that that chill again. This time, the cold felt good. He looked at his old classmates, but they seemed blurry to him, their singing voices mere sounds, easily dismissed. He shook his head. His classmates are suddenly gone, their merry voices already unheard. “Shit,” Eduardo thought, “I’m drunk.” But somehow he didn’t care.
A bright light glowed ahead. Eduardo walked towards it. It got colder and colder as he approached the light, yet Eduardo did not feel it. He felt light headed, something which he wrongly attributed to the booze. He was at the light. What he saw took his breath away.
There, in the middle of the light, was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She was almost as tall as he, had long, flowing hair that caressed her delicate shoulders. Her face was so perfect, her eyes so entrancing, her lips so luscious. She was wearing a garment made of some thin, sheer fabric, so thin that it revealed more than it concealed. There was no wind, but her short dress seemed to sway from something, sometimes showing a tantalizing body part. Her legs were so seductively soft. Eduardo knew it was rude to stare, but he can’t help himself. His eyes feasted on her. When he got to her feet he realized that something was wrong. She was floating.
His mind screamed at him, telling him that this is supernatural, that he should run as fast as he can away from this monstrosity. But his body did not care. All he really wanted was to be held by those perfectly curved arms, to be kissed by those moist lips. And whatever price this enchanting vision demanded of him, he was more than willing to give, only to taste her for just a little while. Soon his mind stopped screaming, and Eduardo knew that he was lost.
It was morning. Rica and her friends were searching for Eduardo in the cornfield. At last one of them shouted “Over here!”
There he was, lying on the ground, motionless.
“Is he dead?” “No, I think he’s asleep.” “Wake him up then.”
Eduardo was shaken awake. He looked around groggily.
“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?”
Eduardo nodded, then suddenly stood up. He looked at the sun.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s 6:30 AM. Listen Ed, are you okay?”
He just stood there, dazed. Rica arrived.
“Hey Ed are you ok? You slept here the whole night.”
“Is that the sun?”
Rica looked at Eduardo quizzically. “Why yes, that’s the sun.”
“When will it be nighttime?”
Rica scratched her head. “Maybe in a half day or so. Look, Ed, we lost you last night in the cornfield. We were really worried about you. Why don’t you rest at the house and have some breakfast, okay? Sounds good, right?”
Eduardo nodded. Rica held him by the arm and walked him to the house. He was quickly forgotten, and everyone had a nice breakfast. Eduardo, however, ate very little. He kept looking at the big clock and out the window. He was forced by Rica to take a bath. Eduardo came out of the bathroom almost as dirty as he went in. Soon he talked to Rica.
“Can I crash here tonight?” Eduardo asked.
“But we are all leaving, remember?” But the look on Eduardo’s face told her that he couldn’t be dissuaded. Rica sighed.
“All right, all right, but you promise to behave, ok? I’ll tell my maids to set up the guest room. They’ll take care of you while you’re here, okay?”
Eduardo just sat there listlessly. Rica just gave up.
“Stay as long as you want, okay?”
About a week later Rica received a call.
“Madame Rica, this is Beatrice.” Her majordomo at the cornfield mansion.
“Why Beatrice how are you?”
“We have a slight problem, Madam Rica. You see, your friend Eduardo is, how shall I put it, acting just a tad strangely?”
“Why what has he done?”
Rica heard Beatrice gulping. “Well, madam, your friend has been wandering about town. He rarely eats, and he hasn’t showered yet.”
Rica blanched. What happened to poor Ed?
“And the strangest thing,” Beatrice continued, “is that every day, just before the sun sets he heads to the cornfield. We try to look for him, but we can’t. You do have a large farm. And every morning we see him, emerging from the cornfield, looking so tired, like he ran the whole night. Why just last Thursday we had to replace his shoes. What should we do madam?”
Rica almost dropped the phone. She heard the stories when she was a child, horrible tales of men driven to madness by something in the cornfield. But she didn’t think much of them, for even her great granddad dismissed the stories as just that, made to scare disobedient children. Too late, she realized how true those stories were.
“Madam? Madam?” Beatrice said on the phone.
28th Aug 2007, 17:06
WARNING: Contains adult themes of a sexual nature. There, you have been warned.
Billy cleaned the layer of white dirt that formed on his dilapidated pickup's battery terminals. It was a hot day, and he wiped some sweat off his forehead as looked at some clouds though squinted eyes. Now that's a nice cloud, he thought, admiring what looked to be a perfectly ordinary cloud.
He then opened the radiator cap. It was almost empty. He got the garden hose and filled the radiator with water. He also doused the dirty pickup, which made the pickup just wet and not less dirty. He sighed. Far above, the nice cloud floated.
Billy looked at his reflection critically on the pickup's window. His face really wasn't ugly. He in fact had nice eyes that looked like some famous actor's, and his lips were once described by an infatuated girl as "luscious". But that's all that he had. His short curly hair was a mess, and it was starting to thin, a legacy from his forefathers (or was it foremothers?). And his body was short and on the fat side. I could use a few hours or days in the gym, he thought as he clutched his left love handle. Problem was, he didn't go to the gym. And all his life he was always the fat kid. It never crossed his mind, not even now as he pinched his other love handle, that he could be thin or even muscular.
He got in the pickup and drove away. The pickup, already twelve or thirteen years old, spewed surprisingly little white smoke. He turned on his cell phone's mp3 player (the pickup's radio was broken) and listened to some tunes that were easily drowned out by a vehicle passing by.
A Black Eyed Peas song was playing. He whistled. He was in quite a good mood, since he was going to buy some farm supplies at the farm supply store. That meant he would see Lisa, a chick that, according to the PUA books he's been skimming recently, could easily be an HB8, maybe an HB9. Maybe even an HB10 with a few beers. A babe who is way up the scales in hotness. And her breasts...
The traffic was heavy. The sun was no longer covered by clouds, nice or otherwise. Two women walked by the sidewalk. They somehow saw past the pickup's ugly exterior and were looking at Billy. Both smiled, then giggled like Catholic schoolgirls before they sashayed away. Wait 'til they see my fat body, Billy thought before gently stepping on the gas pedal. Or is it diesel pedal, since this is a diesel engine?
At last, there it was, the farm equipment store. It's as if it was emitting some sort of halo-like light, like a beacon to weary travelers. Or a place where half-in-love young men can see their fair damsels. Or a place where sexually excited-young-men-who-thought-they-were-in-love can ogle farm equipment store's owner's ample breasted young daughters.
Billy almost skipped to the store. He was so excited that he failed to notice the outstretched arm of a beggar. Billy usually gave some change to beggars, but like a cartoon character in love he was almost floating to his mi amore.
There were usually two types of people who hung out at the farm equipment store: impatient farmers who wanted their spare part NOW so they could return to their soil, and the ones who found excuses to watch the lovely daughters (oh yes, the farm store owner had more than one daughter) getting the farmers' spare parts on high shelves. Always a crowd drawer, that one.
The lovestruck thin-haired fat shortie was glad to note that there were almost no people in the farm store. And no wonder, for the rude farm store owner himself was standing up front. With suspicious stares, he eyed each and every passer-by as if they were all plotting to steal his lovely daughters away.
Billy greeted the owner respectfully. He grunted in reply. After years of patronizing his store one would think he could do better than that, Billy thought. He was thinking of giving the rude owner a piece of his mind when he saw her.
She was sitting on a high chair reading a small book. She had glasses on, which somehow made her lovely Chinese eyes even prettier. She opened her mouth in shock, as if what she just read was truly amazing. To Billy's dirty mind that open mouth was very suggestive. Her newly cut hair almost touched her shoulders. A pink shirt hugged her body. Billy mouth went dry as he stared at her. She must have noticed him since she put down her book. As she got down from her chair he noticed the words on her shirt, words that her breasts made even bigger: LOOK AT THESE, in a bold white font. One of those teasing shirts. Her jeans were knee high, covering what he knew were milky white, silky smooth thighs. He grew hard.
“Hi Billy!” Lisa said. She was smiling. Wow she's smiling for me, he thought. If only Billy knew that that smile was a smile for customers and not potential boyfriends or fubus. “What can I do for you?” Lisa asked in a voice that was sweet yet sultry.
She didn't know that the question she asked evoked even more dirty thoughts. What can you do for me? Billy silently repeated. First off, you can take off your shirt. Slowly now, we don't want to rush into things. Then do that thing with your mouth while your at it. Then maybe... Billy heard her saying something.
“Hello? Billy?” she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.
He was still staring at her breasts. Lisa was still wearing her shirt. He was still staring at her breasts. Immediately he looked up at her face. The smile was fading.
Billy cleared his throat. “Yes, I need a connecting rod bearing.”
LOOK AT THESE, the shirt commanded.
No! I've offended her enough already!
“For what machine?” Lisa asked.
LOOK AT THESE, the shirt commanded again.
Stop it, will you! You're just a shirt, for goodness' sake!
Lisa was saying something again. Great, not only am I a bastard with no manners, I'm also an inattentive loser who won't listen, Billy thought.
“I said, for what machine?” Lisa said. The smile was now gone.
He said the brand name of the machine.
LOOK AT THESE, the shirt said with finality.
At that moment Lisa crossed her arms, which accentuated her twin peaks even more. Billy couldn't help himself. He stared.
“What year and model?” Lisa said, now angrily.
Billy said the year and model of the machine without even looking up. He was already hard, but somehow he felt even harder. Got to buy a box of tissues for later, he thought.
With a huff Lisa grabbed a small ladder and stepped on, since the part Billy wanted was on the top shelf. This, of course, provided a perfect view of Lisa's perfectly shaped ass. No panty lines. She grabbed way up the shelf, pulling her body hugging skimpy shirt up. What looked like a thong peeked out from her pants. Oh sh*t I could spray my pants right now, he thought.
The moment, however entertaining for the sexually excited and almost salivating Billy, was soon over. Lisa dropped the part on the counter (almost hitting his fingers), grabbed the money, and huffed away. Someone else, an ugly employee, gave Billy the change.
28th Aug 2007, 17:10
He walked dejectedly to the pickup. He still had a hard-on, but he was dejected. An internal argument went on in his mind.
Deep male voice: Now that she knows you're a pig, she won't even let you see her! How discreet!
High childish voice: But a voice, that shirt! It told me to...
Deep male voice: No buts! There won't be a next time!
Sighing, Billy knew that the deep male voice was right. He also knew that the voices were somehow symbolic. Or that they meant he was crazy.
Billy noticed that the beggar still had his arm outstretched. This wasn't the usual beggar who begged at this spot. This beggar was really filthy. He had no shirt. The beggar looked like he had a disease of some sort, because his skin was both spotted and mottled with colors that were all unnatural. He was so thin his ribs could almost break the skin. The shorts he wore had holes in places that shouldn't have holes. The hard-on quickly went away.
Billy also noticed that there were no coins in his arm, nor were there any coins in his begging cup, or whatever that is called. Feeling sympathy for the beggar – after all, the beggar is a human – Billy fished a few coins from his pocket.
Billy thought he heard the beggar say something weakly.
“What did you say?” he asked the beggar.
“Food”, the beggar repeated a little louder.
Billy was baffled. A beggar who chooses! Who would've thought? The beggar was looking at him.
He went to his pick-up, dropped the part, and got a pack of biscuits he always carried around. He went to the beggar again.
“Here you go”, Billy said as he handed the food to the beggar.
“Open it”, the beggar said.
Don't that beat all. Billy opened biscuits and put them on the beggar's hand.
“Feed me”, the beggar said. The beggar opened his mouth expectantly.
“What?” Billy was exasperated. Already some people were looking at the odd scene. The beggar still had his mouth open.
Billy looked at the beggar again. He was really really filthy, perhaps the dirtiest piece of sh*t he has seen ever. A big-eyed fly buzzed inside the beggar's open mouth. Billy fought the reflex to gag. Still the beggar had his mouth open.
“Can't you do it yourself?” Billy asked the demanding one.
“Arm's broken”, the beggar said. Billy didn't notice it before, but the arm was indeed broken.
Billy looked at the sky in frustration. Then he looked at the beggar. Careful not to make direct contact with the beggar, Billy held the biscuit by an edge and ever so gently placed it in the beggar's mouth. The beggar chomped eagerly. After a few minutes the biscuits were gone.
“Thank you”, the beggar said. And with surprising quickness he grabbed Billy's leg with a hand from the supposedly broken arm.
Billy saw a flash of light, and suddenly he was somewhere else. The farm equipment store was gone, and so is the pickup. And the beggar was gone too.
The beggar! He transferred some sort of deadly disease on me that makes me see things!
Everything was surrounded by a cloud-like layer, as if a truck full of dry ice suddenly crashed and spilled its contents just beside Billy. This can't be real.
Billy slapped himself. "Ouch!", he exclaimed.
"Why are you slapping yourself?" someone asked.
Billy looked around for the source of the voice.
At a short distance some smoke parted. The source of the voice was a tall man. He had huge tree trunk arms that were crossed over a massive chest. He was wearing some odd garment or robe that could be best described as medieval. Billy saw that the man had long locks of curly hair, which parted in the middle to reveal his eyes. Billy stared at the eyes...
"You! Your that beggar!" Billy said in disbelief.
The "beggar" chuckled. "Yes, you can call me Beggar for now," the Beggar said, in a voice that scared Billy.
"Where am I? What did you infect me with?"
"Infect you with? I infected you with nothing. That thing you fed with your biscuits is nothing more than a disguise I enjoy using from time to time."
This is crazy, Billy thought.
"I have waited generations for someone to show compassion the way you did. You passed the first test. Prepare for the next", the Beggar said.
"Test? What test? What are you talking about?" Billy asked. He looked at the Beggar's eyes. Half a heartbeat later there was nothing else but the Beggar's eyes.
From nowhere Billy felt a pain that was excruciatingly painful. There was nothing else that could compare to it. Billy felt the pain course through his brain, his insides, his skin, his mind. Every nerve in his body screamed, every cell wailed. Then Billy knew why he felt such agonizing pain.
He was being examined. Each thought he had since he was born up to that moment was being scrutinized, like a child curiously studying some trinket, then discarding the trinket when it was no longer amusing. Only the child was the Beggar, and the trinket was him. Let me die now please, Billy begged.
The pain abruptly stopped. Billy fell face first in exhaustion. He could barely hear the Beggar's words.
"Yes, you'll do, I think. Perfectly human, with all the foibles and potential. Yes, that's poetic enough." The Beggar laughed maniacally.
Billy was reminded of a cheap movie villain's haha-my-evil-scheme-is-about-to-be-fulfilled laughter.
Suddenly Billy was near the farm store again. The beggar or the Beggar was nowhere in sight. The cloud was also gone. He was, so to say, back to normal.
What the f*ck just happened?
A fly was buzzing where the beggar's mouth should have been. But before Billy could think about that a very loud scream pierced the air.
Billy and everyone else turned to the source of the scream. A huge, unkempt man wielding a knife was behind Lisa. He held her in a death grip and had the mean-looking knife poised over Lisa's neck. A few more screams and panicked yells punctuated the air. People gathered around the ensuing drama.
sh*t! I must do something! But what! And despite the dire situation that Lisa was in Billy still thought that the crazy man was lucky, what with his crotch rubbing at Lisa's behind, his arms grazing her breasts every now and then...
Stop that! What must I do? What can I do?
Suddenly there was a blue flash. Then everything was back to normal. But he now had a better view of Lisa and his assailant. It's as if the people stepped aside, just for him. Wait. No, that's not it.
He looked down. Crap, I wasn't wearing this blue thing a while ago! He looked at a nearby store with a huge window. What he saw shocked him beyond anything else.
He was looking at himself, if he were taller, more muscular, and more handsome. The figure in the reflection was him, but it wasn't him. His hair was now straight and waved majestically in the air. His face looked like his "normal" face, only it looked so chiseled, much more handsome that he was unrecognizable. He was wearing a blue spandex-like thing that showed of a six-pack and a huge chest. He flexed his biceps, and was pleased that the muscles strained against the short-sleeved shirt. He looked down, and saw that his leg muscles were barely hidden by the shorts. And his thing! He wasn't really short down there, but man, his new thing could put an angry anaconda to shame!
Another scream caught Billy's attention. He looked around. Everyone was still looking at the commotion. Maybe they didn't see me transform into this. Nobody was paying any attention to him. Whew.
Lisa screamed again. Billy walked towards her. The crowd parted, perhaps seeing that he is a true champion, or maybe because a tall and handsome man wearing a blue skimpy costume was crazy.
"Step back! Don't come any closer or I'll kill her!" the crazy man said.
Lisa whimpered, while the crowd shouted suggestions.
"You're a big guy! You can take him on!"
"No! He could easily kill her, you see! Let the police handle this!"
"The police won't be here for a long time! Do something now!"
Billy didn't know what to do. He was, in fact, transformed into something else, like a superhero. But he didn't his superpowers, if he had any. And that knife was awfully close to Lisa's neck. Lisa...
A new batch of rubberneckers surged forward, pushing Billy forward. The hostage taker saw this as a hostile movement. He pulled back the knife, and was about to slash Lisa's neck.
Before anyone can scream Billy was moving. Everything was in slow motion. Billy looked to around. Sweat from a man dropped slowly to the ground. A woman who was recording the drama on a cellphone camera was starting to press a button. A bird, perched at a nearby tree, was in the motion of taking off.
Either everything moved too slowly, or I'm moving too fast, Billy thought.
The knife near Lisa's neck moved slowly too. Billy was running. Before the crazy man could even react Billy knocked the knife off the man's hand. It flew far away, and made a noise on a building rooftop. Billy stared in amazement.
The man, realizing that his weapon was gone, released Lisa and confronted Billy. He punched Billy, but Billy was too fast, and the punch hit nothing but air. The man punched, then punched again, but Billy dodged all of them. Billy punched him in the chest, and he flew by a few feet before colliding with some more people. They toppled like bowling pins. The man tried to get up, but the quick-minded citizens held him fast. Some were already doling out some justice of their own when the police arrived.
A few scattered cheers for Billy quickly erupted into full-blown applause. The police, apparently satisfied with the accounts of a few dozen people, quickly hauled off the crazy man and let the hero have his moment of glory. The blue hero blushed a deep red.
Lisa, looking as fresh as a blossoming flower, walked toward Billy. Billy was rooted on the spot. She hugged Billy. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and their crotches met. For a second or two Lisa rubbed herself discreetly on Billy's body before giving him a kiss. A deep kiss. Her tongue explored Billy.
It was the most erotic experience Billy ever had. Despite the crowd of people watching them and cheering for him and looking at them and ogling her Billy grew hard again. Apparently Lisa felt that, for she pulled back, and whispered "Oh my". She gave him a naughty smile and at last walked away. His father put an arm around her protectively and glared at Billy. Lifesaver or not, Billy was still a lustful kid in his eyes.
He was right. Billy looked down at his embarrassing erection, but the fabric held. No noticeable boner. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked around. What now, he thought. How do I get out of this? Can I fly?
He bent his knees. To onlookers he looked like he was about to fly. Everyone held their breath in anticipation.
Billy jumped. And jump was all he did. Granted, the jump was as about as high as a basketball court is long, but he didn't fly. The crowd's elation shattered when Billy fell awkwardly to the ground, cracking the asphalt. They were silent as their hero got up. Billy looked around embarrassingly. So much for your hero. He saw a small opening among the people. Like before, he ran. Everything moved slowly but him. Soon he was gone.
After running for a few minutes he realized that he was miles away from the farm store. I must remember to slow down. He stopped and backtracked until he was at an abandoned mill just near their home. It was here he realized he had a big problem.
How the f*ck do I turn back to normal Billy?
He went inside the abandoned mill. A few rats scattered away, unaccustomed to the light. He closed the huge doors, and thought about his normal self.
He thought and thought and thought. Suddenly there was another blue flash, then the inside of the barn again. Am I back to normal? He held the side of his stomach and felt his love handles reassuringly. Yes, I'm back. Then he grabbed his thing. Oh well...
He went outside and waited for a jeeepney. As he paid for his fare he thought about what just happened. What did the Beggar do to me? Am I really a hero?
People were still hanging around the farm store when he got off the jeepney. As he walked to his pickup he caught snatches of conversations.
"... then BOOM! The knife was gone! What do you think happened to it?"
"...and that blue suit! Yummy..."
"...did he do that? He was suddenly gone..."
He saw a camera starting to interview Lisa. Pretty soon there were people making faces and posing for the camera behind Lisa, but Lisa looked unperturbed by them. She's perfect for the TV screen. Before he could get to her there were even more people hovering around the camera, perhaps hoping for an interview. Sighing, Billy got on his pickup and went home.
That night Billy was watching TV. An earlier newsflash promised more about a "blue dude" that rescued a girl from a deranged man. It's about 6:30, the news was about to start.
The video was obviously from a cellphone camera. One moment the screen showed the man holding a knife to Lisa's neck, the next the taller, buffer version of himself was there, and the knife was gone. The blue dude was too fast for the cellphone camera: all the cellphone got of him were jerky movements.
The screen was suddenly filled with Lisa's face. Her eyes, her lips, her hair. The cameraman zoomed out, and Lisa's body was on screen.
With the image of Lisa while he bought the part, and the memory of the erotic kiss Lisa gave him, and Lisa on TV right now, Billy grabbed a box of tissues.
Through a haze of cloud-like air there two pairs of eyes watching Billy.
"Are you sure he's the one?"
"Of course I'm sure! He even fed me, remember?"
The other voice was silent for a while.
"But look at him right now! He's masturbating, for goodness' sake! What kind of hero masturbates?"
The Beggar did look at Billy. He chuckled as Billy grabbed a tissue.
"I read his mind, and he's perfect. And he did well with that lackey you sent. Besides, what's the worse that could happen? At the very least, we could be entertained."
The owner of the other voice snorted.