GOOD FRIDAY. Today is anything but good – “holy” and profane hand-in-hand. I woke up late as usual. [It’s vacation idiot.] Neighbors were on the height of Good Friday activities: loud music, tong ‘its, halo-halo special, competing loud broadcasts of the Last 7 Words of Jesus from various radio stations, bystanders, crossword puzzles, a girl of 13 or 15 reading a Tagalog romance pocketbook and children doing their own interpretations of an ideal Good Friday fuss.
After coffee no sugar, I went out to buy some cigs to a store nearby when, wtf! My former philosophy teacher was on TV. Well, he gained my respect when I was his student in college. Still has it though I don’t give a shit to other priests, most of them, and Cardinal Vidal too, after his eminence meets the excellent slut president at Wack Wack Golf Course. The consequence of their nice union came later when J’Lo visited Cebu and was eventually snubbed with some nice hair flips by gay priests. Even Marcos dead Devil had not experienced such hearty indifference. Anyway the good philosopher finished his theology in the same school I attended months back. A caption said that he is a Monsignor now [no wonder he’s good] and that he’s delivering the 6th last word of Jesus “It is finished”, which, as far as I’m concerned, contains three nice words in them. Former admiration being awakened in me, I decided to stay and be a good friday boy for a while and listen to his delivery of some good thousands words and the last 6th word.
I found a good spot in a corner and was about to hear what comes next after my mentor cried CONSUMMATUM EST!, when this damn old woman turn off the TV. Of course it’s her TV but for godssakes woman don’t you have any respect? It’s Jesus’ last words motherfucker! My head sreamed. Dismayed. I went back to my Spartan refuge and read through my anger with a Sinclair Lewis book and a nice sleep afterwards. That damn bitch..