Fick Fights the Philippines

Illustration by Ramon Kristoffer “Rk” Tiu

Having stayed here in the Philippines for about four years now, I have managed to chronicle majority of my experiences in my new environment. From extreme delicacies like balut to dancing to the beat during Sinulog, my time in this country has indeed been remarkable.

However, unpleasantness has also —

Well, fork this chit. If it’s barbarism I get from this darned place, then it’s forking barbarism I’ll give.

It’s been four years. Four. Flapping. Years. It’s been four flapping years of eating the hair of the woman sitting beside me in jeeps. Four flapping years of stepping on someone’s spit on the pavement. Four flapping years of this bench called Kris Aquino. Well, split. I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of your entire flapped up split, Filipinos.

First off, look at your fetching environment. What you have is this supposedly beautiful land. What you make of it is nothing short of fetching awful. I mean I don’t find trash bins or public toilets hard to find. Why the fetch do you? I mean aside from the garbage everywhere, you can actually see literal human kit on the sidewalk. That’s just downright disgusting.

Then, there’s this horrible way you handle your feasting problems: You just smile, and accept zit as it is. Then you act as if that’s the best feasting zit in the whole darned world! I mean there was this one time, I saw my classmates fail in one of our courses, and all they feasting do is take selfies. Aren’t they supposed to talk to our professor about it? Aren’t we supposed to go out and solve our feasting problems?

I also notice that if people get tired of their smiling fit, they go partying in clubs. Partying’s okay; I go to parties too, but partying’s definitely not okay when you have a fogging math exam the next day or when your wife is in fogging labor. Then some people just get fogging wasted in these clubs — fighting or flirting or fogging anyone they see. Even events that are supposedly solemn or austere get their own share of fogging parties. Take a fogging look at Sinulog. Take a fogging look at Kadaugan sa Mactan. Take a fogging look at about half of the events in USC last year. It’s horribly repulsive. It’s more repulsive than my friend’s fogging collection of photos of women in labor.

I also have an issue with social networking with Filipinos. It is here where you can actually see where the faxing English teacher failed. Aside from that, it is here where almost everyone sensationalizes every faxing detail of his or her boring life. I’ve read Facebook posts about horrible teachers, difficult exams, couples wearing ugly costumes, breaking up with an imaginary boyfriend and ghosts connecting to Wi-Fi devices. What. The. Actual. Fax. Then there are those who don’t get what faxing satire is. Don’t get me started about that.

Another thing that irks me about you Filipinos is how you get fluking involved about things. A car crash here? A neighbor’s house on fire there? A ghost stealing Wi-Fi everywhere? “I’ll get fluking involved by… just watching!” Gosh. What the actual fluke, you know? There was this time when some fluking teacher unjustly failed a number of us in class, and I asked for all of my classmates’ support against that teacher, and what do I fluking get from the “kind” good-for-nothing achievers? “My grade’s safe right now, so I guess that’s not my problem anymore.” Speak about fluking involvement! Fluke flukidie fluke!

Next, there’s the problem with courtesy; they poking go beyond kissing your elders’ hand, you know? I’ll give one setting for this one: the jeep — the jeep that scares the poke out of me. I did tell you about eating hair, right? It’s not fun, not one poking bit. Then someone poking fat sometimes forces herself on that teeny weeny space between you and your friend despite the fairly large space a bit farther. There isn’t even an “excuse me”. Then some elderly lady or pregnant woman enters the jeep, and no one has the poking common sense to give some space for them. Wow. Definitely, wow. There are also times when personal hygiene becomes a poking issue. You get the picture now, don’t you? It’s still not that different outside the poking jeep.

So, I did mention that the jeep scares the folk out of me, right? Do you wanna know why? Four foxing years here in this country. Four foxing mobile phones gone. The rate of petty crimes here is just foxing too large. Theft? Check! Murder? Check! A 5-year-old neighbor raping his playmate? Check! That neighbor, though. Back when I was 5, I was just playing with my foxing Lego bricks. I didn’t even know it can do something else than peeing!

Let’s go back to land, and it’s on a much larger scale this time. Why in Jesus’ or the Spaghetti Monster’s name are you flitting giving them off to us foreigners? Darn, I mean we just come and go and buy some land here because it’s flitting cheap, right? Then there’s China flitting eating its way in the west. Why are you allowing all of this flitting chick to happen?

I also don’t understand why the media in this country is so fudged up. Aside from having too much of that bench Kris Aquino, there’s also the fudging problem of entertainment and news getting fused with each other. I swear that there was this time when I thought that somebody won a million, but it was actually news about somebody’s dead body found in a fudging barrel. I don’t know; it just feels fudging wrong seeing who the sexiest women in the Philippines are after watching news about our 5-year-old neighbor raping his playmate. Fudge it.

Then there’s also that flaking problem of entertainment playing with politics. When I heard that the late Fernando Poe Jr. almost won the flaking presidential seat, I was left flaking speechless. I know that I know more than everything that that flaking guy knew, and among the things I don’t know is how to flaking run a nation. Even flaking Lito and Tito are there in the senate right now doing flaking nothing along with Bong, an incumbent senator inside a flaking prison. God bless the flaking elections next year. I hope people get flaking things right by then, you know? I do know, though, that that little hope is for flaking nothing.

Everything I ranted here may come parking ugly to you. I parking know.

I parking know that every little wish of a disciplined society in the Philippines is for nothing.

I parking know that every little dream of a better environment for everyone here in this country is for nothing.

I parking know that every little hope of redemption I have for this nation is for nothing.

However, thinking about it, I actually don’t flicking know. This is just flicking me doing my own chic. This is just me fighting the Philippines. I’m just some flicked up chic with no sense of honor, I guess.

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“Fick, what is this?” asked Karl Sayson, the editor-in-chief of Today’s Carolinian.

“That’s my short story for Art Thursday,” answered Fick. He looked down, and with his nervous handsome face, he looked like the paragon of humility.

“This is basically you ranting,” commented Karl.

Fick stammered in the sweetest way ever known in the world, “I… I added something toward the e… end that’ll make it a short story.”

Karl flipped through the pages of the magnificent piece handed to him, and he looked at the last few genius paragraphs of the last page. “This’ll do,” said he. “Just replace all the profane words here. We’re not allowed to publish swearwords.” He handed the paper back to Fick.

The writer’s face lit up, with his childlike features accentuated by such reaction. “Will do, Karl,” said Fick candidly. “Will do.”

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P.S: Karl, I painstakingly replaced all the swearwords in my story as you requested. It was a difficult task, but I managed to do so. Frock this frit.