Time Turner Number 5: *Reality Blabber and the Ignoramus Buffoons

It’s Monday. I feel blue. I feel like not going to school. I feel like not attending the gay monologue of Piggybacking whose bloodshot eyes are as deep as a freakin’ zombie’s. I feel like abstaining from the tortuous therapeutic sessions for insomniacs. I feel like lying down and giving myself a break. I feel like watching TV.

Click. 

Oh, it’s me. On the idiot box. Right in the middle of two gansta inhumanoids. On a bus. In the middle of heavy traffic. On my way to school. At my left is someone who appears to be more dim-witted than Ed, Edd, and Eddy blendered. Whose face would remind you of a complete asshole prototype, minus the stinking drool and the ogre voice. His phone rings. A melody from hell fills the air. He reaches the phone in his pocket but waits for the bloody piece of ringtone to finish its ding-song sequence before answering it. Show-off. He speaks with that shuddering drunken twang. “Oi, pare. On the way na ko pare. Oo pare (Laughs). Sige pare!” Pare…pare my ass! This guy’s one of the “most stupidest” I’ve ever met. Most stupidest - putting myself on his empty, rotting coconut shell. I like the sound of that. The ignoramus looks at me. I look at him. He looks at his cellphone, staring at the LCD for quite some time. Like it was the first time he received a call in his entire life. Sheesh.

The other one (on my right), I suspect, is  illiterate. And probably will die tomorrow of lung cancer. How I wish. He puffs his nicotine-filled stick despite the yellow sticker on the wall that reads: NO SMOKING. Any person who has mastered the English alphabet can comprehend what the sign means. Unless, of course, he is an alien that speaks an indecipherable gibberish. It means giving the other commuters a fair share of clean air - if, indeed, there’s still any. He puffs again. This time, a thicker screen of smoke shrouds my view. My eyes become blurry. I breathe. I cough. I look at him. He looks at me with that what-are-you-looking-at sarcastic face. I glance at the yellow sticker on the wall. He puffs again. Ignoramus’ phone rings again. And he waits for the ring tone to finish.

Click.

Two girls in the library. Talking. Chatting. Their noses are closely attached to the pages of thick books. A perfectly striking pose of studious academic learners. A perfect disguise for a nonsense pathetic chatter. Girl Number 1 anxiously asks Girl Number 2 about last night’s wretched tear-jerker.

G1: I didnt watch (name of sappy soap) last night. Had to finish this pesky assignment.

Girl Number 2 willingly starts the rant. With brimming excitement. With overflowing ardor.

G2: OMG! You missed one half of your life! 

G1: Really? Why? What happened?

G2: (Name of male lead character) has finally kissed (name of female leadcharacter) on the lips. (Giggles) As in it was so sweet and romantic and all. And (name of female lead character) said she loves (name of male lead character) after all.

G1: Awww…Too bad I missed that episode. So what happened next?

Girl Number 2 shrieks. Feisty librarian eyes on them both. Girl Number 1 and 2 meet their doom.

Click.

On a public utility jeep. On my way home. The driver is voicing out his opinions on politics. He says he’s not against the 12% VAT. “Two percent lang nama. Nagrereklamo agad.” Intellectually stimulating. “Tsaka di naman ako kumakain sa Jollibee.” Very intellectually stimulating. He looks at me for approval. I give him a blank stare instead. I reach for a twenty-peso bill and give it to him.  He gives me a rusting faded gold coin in return. I look at my change and then look at him with slit eyes. “Manong, estudyante.” He pretends not to hear.  I repeat what I said. This time, with more audible, impatient voice. He responds. He gives me the additional two pesos. I receive the coins and look at him with pure loathing.

Click.

At a department store. I’m looking for a shirt to buy. Friendly Saleslady greets me. “Good Morning. sir!” I proceed to look at their displays. She follows. I take out a red shirt with black sleeves from a file. Friendly Saleslady quips, “Sir, maganda po ‘yan.” I look at her. I force myself to smile. I put the shirt back and walk in other aisles. She follows. Again. I look at her. She smiles. I take out another shirt with black and blue design infront. She utters. “Sir yan ho. Maganda rin yan. Bagay sa inyo.” I force myself to smile again and put the shirt back. I walk in another aisle. Away from her. She still follows. “Sir, ano po bang size?” I walk out of the shop. Friendly Saleslady is not friendly anymore. Freindly Saleslady is already annoying.

Click.

Again on a bus. It’s already getting late. And the wind is becoming chilly. I sit beside a man and a woman who appear to be inseparable. They remind me of that tree-clinging tarsier in Bohol. Lovers, I utter. Sweet. The woman suddenly takes her arms away from the man’s body. She becomes uneasy, moves her behind, andgets a tight grip on the man’s shoulders once more. The man responds by leaning his head on hers. They become distracting. The man then turns to be uneasy on his seat, moving here and there, and proceeds to finally nestle  the woman in her arms. The woman reacts by embraving him tighter than ever. They become anoying. The woman moves restlessly. Again. She lets out a moan. She places her head on  his chest. The man cuddles her with the tightest clutch he can muster. He becomes a human lizard. He kisses her on the forehead. The woman moves. They become irritating. I transfer to another seat at the back.

Click. 

At a fastfood restaurant. My stomach is grumbling. I queue in the counter. A crew with a pen and paper  in hand approches. “Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to (name of fastfood restaurant)! Ano pong order nila?” I order a meal.”Number 7. Dine in.” He quips, “Sir, baka gusto po nilang i-try yung (name of food product promoted)?” I stare at him. If looks can kill, then he’s dead by now. I want to ask him if he’s deaf or something but I try to stay calm instead. “Hindi. Yun lang.” “Sir, baka gusto po nilang gawing large yung drinks nila. Additional P5 lang po.” I look at him again. I try to stretch my facial muscles and smile at him. I turn my head from left to right. He gives me the order slip and vanishes from my view. I wait in the long queue.

Click.

In a radio station. The DJ’s on cue. He’s blabbering nonsense. Incomprehensible. He cracks a joke. Complete with that crazy laugh-out-loud sound effect.  I feel morose instead. He reads the text messages from the listeners. “O, wanted daw. Boy Textmate. Naku, magtago ka na!” Laugh-out-loud backdrop ensues. “18-21 years old. Thoughtful, caring, and cute. Uy, ako yun ah!” Laugh-out-loud backdrop follows. “Text (cellphone number). O, text niyo ha. Basta wag niyo lang tawagan.” Laugh-out-loud backdrop comes afterwards. I get a headache.

Click.

Inside the classroom. It’s examination week. Five essay questions to answer. One hour to say your piece. I’m halfway from finishing the second question. The Tibak Instructor begins to be a chatterbox. He says Arroyo is corrupt. He says our value is slowly degrading. He says the taxes he paid  are going only to the pockets of unworthy officials. I look at him. He’s disturbing me. Us, fifty souls. I try to ignore him.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. I stop writing. I’m on my third question. I can’t seem to speak my mind due to his loud annoying verbiage. He says we should be aware of the things happening around us. He says we should be responsible citizens of this society. He says the whole country is going to the dogs. I look at him again. He’s getting on my nerves. I try to get him off my system.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.  I’m on the fifth question. But I’m having a hard time stringing my thoughts. The blabbermouth is pain in the ass. He says he’s disappointed with the way student leaders perform their functions. He says the SSC seems to be mum on the TFI issue. And he begins to narrate his crusade as a student leader back when he was still the SSC President of the university. He brags his accomplishments. All of which we have heard for the umpteenth time. All of which we have learned by heart and memorized like The Lord’s Prayer. I try not to hear. I concentrate on the last question.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. At last. I finish my piece. I instantly submit my paper. He looks at me. I look at him with pure abomination. He tries to open his mouth. I get the better of him instead. I get out of hell before he could even mutter a single word.

Click.

*These real occurrences happened during my last year in college. I submitted it for our college paper and after getting published, the article got a lot of raves from friends and fiends alike. They clamored for a follow-up, which I willingly obliged to do. Part II of this will be published in a future Time Turner.