My Little Sister on Manny Pacquiao Vs. Joshua Clottey

My Little Sister, who has a singular aversion to boxing, or anything violence for that matter, will always know that it's another freaking Manny Pacquiao fight weekend. She can easily detect the signs: the fridge is packed with bottles of beer and the nails on my fingers are all bitten down to the bone.

Every time she finds out that the little corners of the fridge are filled up with nothing but beers, she would always holler and call me big Awesome Brother.

“What the fuck, big Awesome Brother, what happened to my mangoes?”

“I ate them, Little Sister," I holler back. "And I gave some to that pesky neighborhood kid so that he'll leave me alone and bother other people. Damn mangoes had been in the fridge for a long time and there seemed to be no place to put them. So I just decided to put them somewhere safe, in my stomach, and share some to others.”

“What? I just put those mangoes this morning. And what of these beers?”

That instant she comes up to my room, gropes her way through a cloud of cigarette smoke and finds me pounding on my laptop.

I smirk. She hates it when I smirk. So I smirk some more like an idiot.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m smirking.”

“Smile. Smirk. Parehas ra na!” She looks at my fingers and an epiphany seems to have struck her.

“It’s another freaking Pakyaw fight weekend, right?”

“Goodness, Little Sissy! Why don’t you just pronounce his godly name less irreverently? It’s another awesomastic Manny Pacquiao fight weekend. And, yes, the Manny Pacquiao Vs. Joshua Clottey is on tomorrow. That’s what all those beers about and this little excitement.”

“Apparently", she says and looks at my bloody fingers again.