1.
He laid down on the sofa with a warm drink in his hand. His hands were starting to get sweaty. He didn’t mean to, it was nothing but a fucking accident. The noise of the busy street outside his window was like a full ensemble of broken beats; he wondered if the sound of his breath can even compare to the beauty of what he was hearing. The honks of jeepneys and tricycles and irritating hubbub of street kids cussing reverberated and danced from wall to wall of his small condo unit. He thought it was better than the previous pandemonium his eardrums absorbed before he ran back home. He threw the beer bottle across the room as countless thoughts ran around his brain. As if the party was not enough, his disorder attacked at a very unpleasant hour.
“Putangina, where are my pills? I need my pills! -- give it to me, Patricia. NOW!”
He yelled as loud as he could but not even a tad hint of shadow appeared from the dimly lit corners of his flat.
“Don’t worry, Giuseppe, it’ll be over soon.”
“Yes Master Giuseppe, the stars will bow down at your feet tonight, master sir.”
“Kuya, chill, nobody else is gonna die tonight.”
He stood up mindlessly and walked to his bedroom. His shoelaces were untied from running; he almost tripped at every step. What did he do anyway? All he remembered was he was at this party and next thing he knew, he was running back to his place with blood on his clothes. After drinking the beer he got from an unfamiliar face, he blacked out and when he regained consciousness, he was forcing his way out of the steel gate, hearing all the screams that were coming from inside the house.
“Punyeta kayong lahat! What did I ever do to deserve this?”
Surprised at what he just uttered, he walked around his unit and started searching for his girlfriend again. He called on her like it was the only thing he knew.
“Goddamit! Where are you?!”
“Sir, better keep your voice down. They might hear you.”
“We’re right here, kuya, don’t worry.”
He looked around and wondered who, or what, was there with him. These voices kept on whispering in his ears, scaring him as their cold breath brushed against his skin. He covered his ears and closed his eyes. He knew these were the only witnesses to what transpired hours ago. When his mind is at rest, he could clearly hear them speaking to him, only with gamma waves battling beneath their vocal simulations. But when he trying to recall what happened, he could only hear them talking with each other silently. At one moment he heard the little girl who kept on calling him 'Kuya' say, “Shh, I think he can hear us.” barely before he was about to recollect his thoughts. He took his shirt off to check if the bloodstains were real. He brought it closer to his face and sniffed it. He threw it away and attempted to vomit. It sure did smell like it, he thought. But whose blood was it?
“Guiseppe, mukha kang gago. Can’t you see it’s all happening now? You just destroyed The Otherworldly – The Unwilling. It was not meant to live any longer, you know. Not long enough to see the brightest stars surrender their battle gears at your feet.”
“But your majesty, you have to remove your shoes first, we don’t want to see The Inglorious bitching about your inability to rule Servigna especially in those worn out foothuggers.”
The voices spoke to him in even longer sentences. He was beginning to feel panic and fear now. He unzipped his pants and motioned quickly towards the bathroom. He rubbed his cock for minutes until he heard a loud crash. He weakly put it back inside then walked to the window to check where the sound came from.
He peeked through the slits of the Venetian blinds to see what was happening. He was pretty sure the sound came from outside. All he could see was black and nothing more. The honking of the horns was still there, only fainter. It sounded like trumpets blasting from inside a cooler. He could still hear the children playing but this time, he noticed that they were talking to someone, not with a playmate but a new found friend. They talked to him politely but he couldn't understand one word but “Po.” The stranger talked in a very deep voice; monotonous and strangely familiar. He walked away from his window, disappointed that he saw nothing. This was his type of mental torture. Gloom of the most exciting kind.
“It’s him, sir! It’s him!”
“Stop yelling! God, A6! You stupid scullion!”
He heard them again, louder than before, as if they were extremely close to him. Their voices seemed comforting now, especially with the absence of Patricia. He thought of talking to them but he hesitated, thinking they'd appear and he might not like what he was going to see. He went to his room, removed his pants and took out clean boxers from his closet.
“Oh, you are not going to wear just that, diba kuya?”
He finally mustered the courage to talk to his invisible companions.
“I’m sorry but I don’t think I really know you guys. Who are you anyway and how did you get inside my unit?”
He asked them politely, which is totally different from the Giuseppe everyone hates -- the loudmouthed, stuck-up douche who shouts at everyone.
“Giuseppe, I am The Housekeeper.” said the authoritative and more mature sounding voice of the three.
“We have come to guide you and get you ready for The Inglorious’s arrival. He and His men will be here soon. Now that you have killed His minions and His wife, He has no other choice but to surrender his crown.”
“But kuya, are you not scared at all? I mean, yeah… like, afraid? Oh, by the way, I am The Birdsong, your sister. I’ve been watching you ever since you know… Hahaha!”
Upon hearing this, Giuseppe punched his closet door.
“I don’t have a sister! What are you talking about?! I can’t even see you! Where are you?”
“Oh kuya, you can’t just scream at me like that! I can get you…”
“That is enough, you two! Birdsong just shut the hell up. You’ll get what you truly deserve once this is over.”
Giuseppe heard Birdsong muttering something under her breath but he did not mind her because all he ever wanted now is to know what really happened inside that house and who those people at the party were. Markus was the only person he knows, or knew. He doesn’t know if he’s dead too, or not. Just this afternoon, he got a text message from him inviting him to come over because there was something grand that he wanted to tell him. Markus was a great friend. A great companion. A great sexual partner. Nobody knew their little secret except Patricia. They were busy making out at the kitchen counter before someone gave him a drink. He didn’t really see who it was because Markus was busy with his lips.
“Master Giuseppe, please get dressed. I believe you have a very nice, jet black suit in your closet.”
“Now how in hell did you know about that?!”
“We told you, Giuseppe. We know everything.”
His head started to feel heavy. His temples throbbed like his veins were about to jump out of his blood-and-sweat stained face. He started to feel really dizzy. Then he passed out. Again.
.5.
“Nice party, Markus. But where are the weapons?” Nikka whispered soon as she entered his house.
“Shh.. He might be here any minute. It’s in the basement. The Cube is there as well. Don’t worry; I hired three of our strongest men to protect it.” Markus replied as she led her final guest to the living room where the others silently drank their beers with Sufjan Stevens blasting from the speakers.
“You still listen to this crap, Mark?” Giuseppe said as he closed the door behind him.
Markus had this puzzled look on his face before he remembered he gave him a duplicate of his house key. He kissed him lightly on the cheek and went straight to the kitchen. He walked past faces that he didn’t recognize. Those who were drinking by the pool table looked at him like they were about to kill him and that made him wish he never went here. Or was this even a real party? People weren't laughing nor dancing, even. They were all seated properly with half-full bottles in their hands, like they’re waiting for something. They whispered to each other as he walked by. He sat by the kitchen counter alone and continued watching the strangeness around him. Markus approached...
- to be continued -
