29.12.04

BOW

TITLE: BOW
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 4
DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.
TRT: 30 MINS.

At last, my seat mate got off. What a relief to take ownership of the bus seat. But this proves to be short-lived. Someone from behind wanted to share the space.

Upon moving to my left, I felt a tiny object that my previous seat mate has apparently left behind. I was about to call her attention but her distance silenced me. Light bulbs, please. FINDERS, KEEPERS!

Groping the red purse, I realized there's nothing else inside aside from the coins. Should I take it? 'Pamasahe rin 'to,' I mused. But hesitation ruled for the succeeding minutes. If I decide to leave it there, the man next to me may take it. Just then, the conductor's persuasive voice distracted my thought balloon, making my gaze dart from his figure to the driver's.

Assuming they'd tidy up the bus afterwards, I inserted the coin purse to the gap between the seat and the wall. 'Happy New Year!', I thought.

posted by lornadahl @ 06:39 0 Comments

17.12.04

SPIDER

TITLE: SPIDER
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 3
DESTINATION: BUENDIA
TRT: 1 HOUR

The greatest marketing ploy is at hand. While some kids entertain futile thoughts of Santa Claus making a back entry to hand them presents, some grown ups know it's high time to take matters into their own hands. Times are hard.

Thus my paranoia rises again from its cold grave. Being a hold up victim last March, my cranium compels me to leave my bed as early as possible, sleepy or not, than lay myself open to the horrible possibility of feeling that sickening silver pressed against my cheek again.

From Divisoria, I decided to go straight to the office for a snooze before my OT off. My legs were screaming for a massage and my eyes were dying for a shuteye. As if on cue, a scary looking man sat beside me. He was no threat until the supposedly straight crawl from Taft Avenue to Buendia made too many turns. In spite of my struggles to feign my panic, my neck continued to make unnecessary extensions along the alien route. He took notice.

At last, I caught sight of the familiar mean street of Buendia. My body language must be revealing how eager I was to get off but unsure of which unloading area is most ideal. I let my tired feet decide. When I'm just a block away from my desired spot, I felt a finger jab my jacket-protected arm from behind. I froze. Fortunately, the kid asked the driver to halt so I followed suit, my eyes closed from extreme unease as I pass by him.

I heard him hiss as I whisked away. I did not dare to look back. Besides, I had to save myself from two racing buses in front of me.

posted by lornadahl @ 16:29 0 Comments

5.12.04

AVOIDANCE

TITLE: AVOIDANCE
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 2
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 20 MINS.

In my attempt to watch my wallet, I decided to ditch my FX/van rides to Baclaran for awhile and settle on jeepney that night. (FX/van = PhP25 or PhP30, depending on the driver; jeepney = PhP14 or PhP15, depending on the driver.) Recently, I'm getting weary of drivers reacting negatively to my PhP20 bill-and-PhP5-coin combo.

And so I hailed the first Baclaran-bound jeepney that came my way. Little did I know he has a make-her-say-keep-the-change tactic of his own.

At first, his glimpses on the mirror was tolerable. Maybe I looked attractive enough that time, with my damp hair being blown dry by polluted air and all that. When I was about to open my mouth and ask for my change, which I have a penchant of doing whenever somebody gets off so I could have his and other passengers' attention, when he gave me a piercing stare and a heart-stopping wink.

Ewww.

posted by lornadahl @ 10:35 0 Comments

3.12.04

INTRO

TITLE: INTRO
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 1
DESTINATION: NOWHERE
TRT: N/A

Have you ever wondered who came up with the brilliant idea of hailing a vehicle? I dare say it's high time we start replacing Jasmine Trias's billboards with his/hers.

This equally brilliant idea, one night, effortlessly danced in my eyes (read: tiny slits).

Being a literate citizen since age 5, I deducted the oncoming jeepney is not heading to my desired destination. So why bother establish eye contact with the driver? To my surprise, the tires came to a screeching halt in front of me. My eyes darted to the girl beside me, anticipating her to climb up. But she remained motionless. She wouldn't have extended her arm, would she?

Everything went fast. Before I could shake my head and scoff, the rejected driver revved up and slapped our faces with smoke.

Fucking bastard.


posted by lornadahl @ 15:20 0 Comments