Buzz.I awoke at the sound of the alarm clock. Wha-!? I wondered. 8 o’clock!? (Man!)
I forced myself into a vertical position and went to the bathroom. I took a bath at lightning-speed, skipped breakfast (as usual), and dashed out of the gate. I’m late for school!
Sprinted towards Shaw Boulevard, and waited for a cab. I waited, and waited, and waited. Arg! Ever wonder why taxi cabs suddenly vanish when you’re in a hurry and are in abundance when you don’t need them?
Hmp, I can smell some whacked-up conspiracy going on. I opted to take the jeepney instead. Heavy traffic, naturally, it’s a Monday.
In the PM. Holiday! Yay! No work! I have plenty of time to kill. But where would I do the killing? A flashbulb, then, went off inside my brain. Ting! Greenbelt.
I boarded the train, and prayed I would be able to walk out intact. The MRT is my theatre of war, and riding in it has always been my war story, but that’s beside the point.
The sun was high-up as I climbed down the Ayala Station stairs. I entered and exited Glorietta (4, then 2), and scaled the pedestrian overpass connecting the two malls.
Reaching Greenbelt 3, the dilemma as to whether I should go to Starbucks or Seattle’s Best, introduced itself to me. Hmp. Starbest? Or Seattle’s Bucks?
Starbucks it is! And as soon as I crossed the doorsill, a strange feeling engulfed me. I gazed at my surroundings and … and … Aak! I am inside the lair of the yuppies!
Coño people rocking the place with Oh-My-Goshes! An army of killer boots! Swarm of XDAs! Piles and piles of laptops! Braces! Eek! This isn’t the Starbucks that I knoow-wa! I quickly ran towards the exit screaming.
Alright, Plan B then. I strode towards Seattle’s Best, with my hopes up. But I stopped dead on my tracks. Alas, another flock of spoiled young metropolitan elites had taken camp at Seattle’s Best. This is one of the many unfortunate situations where I just want to bring out my WCD’s (Weapons of Coño Destruction) and blast these crazy-tizens to smithereens.
(to be concluded...)
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