Our boss required us to wear formal attire for her wedding two weeks ago. "Half past three in the afternoon," the invitation said. At two o'clock I was ready to go, except that I've yet to catch a cab. My mom took the task of getting one - well, you can hardly stand along the streets of Morayta wearing a long gown, can you?

An hour later I'm still perched in our living room, waiting. Living room? I was by the door, trying to control the contortions progressively invading my facial expression. I called our store a few blocks away to see if my Mom's there, but our kasama said she's nowhere in sight. A parade was ongoing outside our home - I don't recall for which saint - and some members of the third sex spotted me and conducted a show for my "entertainment" and their, aherm, profit. And profit it was; they wouldn't take anything less than a hundred bucks... each. I was more scared than entertained, though: they're spitting fire in a crowded compound of wooden houses, and sometimes they do it facing me - I had to constantly keep my dress out of the way, don't want to be the "toast" of the community.

Three thirty PM. Still no sign of Mother. I placed my second call to the store: negative. Irritation and panic started to get to me; it didn't help that I was now a couple hundred bucks poorer than the last hour I spent seated by our front door, thanks to the fire-breathing exhibitionists who wouldn't leave me alone. "Ano ba, tunaw na yung make-up ko!", I said.

At last I heard my mom calling, rapidly walking towards the house as she did. I wasted no time getting myself inside the vehicle and taking steadying breaths. Considerably calmer than my previous state, I finally asked, "Bakit ang tagal nyo naman." Flatly; I don't even have the strength to intone a question mark. "Eh pasensya ka na..." she started, seemingly still in a daze, then went to tell me about her quest and how she finally caught a cab.

That's when it hit me. While she went to and fro, almost covering the entire U-Belt on foot ("para na akong baliw", she commented), looking for a ride for me, all I can think of is my faded make-up, which could be retouched anyway. I was ashamed of myself. Talk about the lowest life form imaginable.

It's sad how we sometimes tend to take for granted our parents' sacrifices just to get us what we need (at times, what we unnecessarily want). Sometimes these are little things, undiscussed and forgotten thereafter, but sacrifices all the same.

By the way, the wedding ceremonies started at 4PM. All that tension and still I was ten minutes early.

Sorry Mama.

Teet-teet, teet-teet!

7210: Your 535 minutes of Sun-to-Sun calls will expire on 01/28/2009. Your unlimited Sun-to-Sun texts...

Nine hours of talktime. I wonder what to do with it. I can't spend it on you; you won't be there. I don't know which hurts more: my stubbed fingers (speed dialling doesn't make it better if you press the button countless times) or my aching heart.

Do you realize you've been ignoring me for most of the year?

Hard to believe that before, you just couldn't have enough. Now I'm spent, and left with nothing. May kwenta pa ba ako?

It shouldn't be a surprise that I've been absent from your call register lately, even your inbox. I suspect you prefer that.

But I still long for you. So I reload ahead of time, to preserve those minutes.

Then cross my fingers that through them we may connect again.

If there's such a word, I know to whom it points to. Our next-door neighbor.

The little brown dog has kind eyes. He rarely barks; when he does, it's welcoming rather than menacing. He's always ready to wag his tail whenever I get home from work. When I call out, he responds with a playful jump. Who couldn't help but give him a friendly pat on the head? Who wouldn't be amused?

One time I heard pitiful animal sounds coming from outside the house. I tried to put it off as some short-lived thing, but it won't stop. I finally went downstairs, intrigued. Someone was muttering angrily; with every pause in human speech comes a fresh animal cry of pain. I stepped out and sat at a chair by the door so I could get a better view without seeming to watch on purpose.

Our neighbor, the dog's master, was holding a twelve-inch screwdriver. Yes, a dozen inch, so you could imagine how thick the tool was, in proportion to its length, and how hard the material it's made of. He's striking the dog with it.

I listened. "Sinabi ko na sa 'yong wag mong kakalkalin yung basura! Di ba sinabi ko na sa 'yo?! Abuso ka eh, pag bumait sa 'yo abuso ka!" More yelps of pain.

I wanted to snatch the weapon and hit him instead. Or at least, give him a piece of my mind. But I was too enraged to interfere.

The howling still wouldn't stop. It lasted a few more minutes; I can't look, and later I couldn't even bear listening. I went inside and shut the door.

How can he be so cruel?

How can he be... such an idiot?

KUNG AYAW MONG KALKALIN NG ASO ANG BASURA MO, WAG MONG ILAGAY SA TABI NYA.

SA SITWASYONG ITO, SINO ANG BOBO: ASO O TAO?

I'm just glad the dog didn't totally lose his happy disposition towards people. I heard from my mom, though, that everytime someone passes him by, holding a long object, the dog backs off, as if wanting to go unnoticed and avoid more blows.

Poor dog.