Dead Bodies Everywhere
We reached a night market selling meat. There were dead bodies everywhere, some of them, days old. All of them were dismembered but nobody cared. There was a riot two days ago and it seemed to happen often. I suddenly remembered Pallon's joke about dead bodies being so commonplace in UP such that when somebody dies, they'd just call a janitor: "Manong, paki-walis nga yung bakla; namatay eh."
We left the car and entered a convenience store as discreetly as possible. A group of guys were following us. We just sat on the side in a circle. Some guy with a big belly, really dark skin, and dirty greenish sando, offered Migi something that looked like Tawas being sold in sari-sari stores—the ones sold in little plastic bags and stapled to a carton. It was shabu. Migi gave the guy a hundred bucks and took one. Then the guy offered it to Miguel. Miguel bought one as well. They both did out of fear.
When the guy offered it to me, I said "Hindi po". He acted irritated and then shoved it a little nearer to my face. I whispered, "Hindi po."
"Ano ulitin mo nga 'yon?" He was smiling now.
"Alin po?"
"Yung tawag mo sa'kin, anong tawag mo sa'kin?"
"Po?"
And he laughed and walked off. I couldn't help but cry so I hid my face against Migi's back. A narrator in a deep voice said "This story would've ended happily if nobody lost their ticket."
Near the entrance of the convenience store, two kids—a boy and a girl were running from the gang who were following us to the store earlier. The boy shouted, "Your ticket!" The girl, without looking back, shouted back,"That's not my ticket, it's yours!" And they kept on running.



