Chismosa

Kat likes looking at shoes. There is something immensely satisfying about watching women wobble through the rocky streets of Metro Manila in their high heels. Schadenfroydoh, was it? Froyde? Ah, whatever. That German word for happiness at the misfortune of others. Kat smiles to herself and bites onto a jamaican patty. The woman was wearing black suede boots and was walking like a penguin, how can she not smile?

Oooh, that looks familiar, Kat’s eyes followed a pair of strappy sandals. A couple of people carrying plastic boxes blocked her view as the crowd waiting for a ride got bigger. Kat’s eyes darted away and focused on her jamaican patty. A momentary shuffle and then someone shouts, “KALENTONG!” the crowd almost immediately dissipated, devoured and carried by the Fx away from the mall.

The woman with the strappy sandals was still there. Kat blinked as her eyes moved upwards to inspect just what kind of woman would be wearing those sandals. Heh, how amusing. She’s wearing the type of clothes Kat would have worn too. That’s probably how I would look like in forty years Kat thinks to herself when she noticed the strands of gray hair on top of the woman’s head.

“QUIAPO! QUIAPO!”

Kat takes her last bite and throws the trash inside her bag.

—-

On normal days, Kat wouldn’t have cared. She observed the world through her eyes, not her ears. In fact, she hated noise. The only noise she tolerated would be the comforting ticktack of the rain rattling on makeshift roofs from the nearby squatter’s area. Needless to say, Kat is in-love with her headphones. It shields her from everything. it protects her from the crass woo-ing the tricycle drivers in Blumentrit are so fond of. It soothes her and calms here even in the middle of the unforgiving Shaw boulevard traffic. It makes her focus.

But today wasn’t an ordinary day. Her headphones snapped just before she set out for work.

So she sat there. No music, no life. Staring right out into the blur of the city streetlights, becoming more and more sensitive that the woman brushing up her arm was ovulating, her temperature was insanely high you see, and also, she’s making peace with the fact that she’s the designated conductor for the night. How boring. How mindfuckingly bor–

“Dunya take mah book now! That is MINE mister. MINE!”

ksssksh kssshhkkh!

“Can’t believe he quit. Prolly couldn’t take the heat. What do you think we do wi’ him?”

kkksshhhh kssshhh!

Kat is an impatient girl, it irks her that she has nothing to do and nothing to listen to. Her ears begged her to tune in  to anything. Anything at all.

kkkssssshk kssssshhhk! BEEP!

What do you call those things again? Like the one they use in the Mission Impossible movies? Walkie-Talkies? Yeah, those. Kat hated those things. You can never understand what the person on the other end is saying.

“So what are we going to doooo~ hooo~ hoo~ Will we do it agaaaii~heen?”

kkssshhhk  ksshhhhhkk!

Kat used her well-trained ears to decipher what they were talking about. From the looks of it, the driver has a gay lover and ‘book’ is their codename for a boy toy. Or a dildo. And that someone from their organization of gay liberals quit.

It was probably someone who just came out recently and was overwhelmed by the sudden liberties of  finally admitting the truth about himself. Kat smiles and tried her best to hide it. Okay, that was amusing. But it was getting tougher for her to hear what they were saying. Bored and tired from work, Kat closed her eyes to sleep.

kksssshkk! ksssshhhk!

“What? But you killed so many already!”

kk—-

Kat’s eyes shot open.