Desperado
Thursday, March 16th, 2006Ahead of me lie a vast desert of letters to encrypt into my limbic forebrain, particularly my hippocampus. I have all night but i do not stir; i stare. Naturally, i crave for consolation. I need blood to rush through my veins, and i mean ‘rush‘. So I go downstairs to obtain what every alcoholic denies - with a measly thirty pesos on my right hand short of a torn pocket on my shorts - Puro barya pa.
“Pabili po ng Red Horse.”
“Wala na’ng maliit,” says the vendor.
I panic. I palpitate and hyperventilate. Kailangan ko yun. Kulang na lang magnakaw ako. Putangina. Adik.
In my most beggarly manner, i plead with a phrase I have never said before “Pwede po ba’ng i-lista na lang?”
She refused.
Pare, ang patetik ko naman.
