Jack The Scribbler

Thanks, Fotosearch

Guy walks into a bar, inspects whatever passes for the decor, and asks how much for a beer?

The waiter, all-too-accommodating, proceeds to give a number, which appears reasonable, so the guy — who is accompanied by an acquaintance — sits down.

Guy orders one round for both.

Suddenly, the speakers go full blast.

Guy is irritated because he may be unable to hear the story of his new-found acquaintance.

Fortunately, management has immediately deemed it fit to turn the volume down to a more tolerable level. After all, waiters are trying to listen into the exchange taking place at the other table.

Some white-haired, middle-aged geezer wearing a loose T-shirt, a pair of shorts and slippers appeared to have arrived late for his date, a young, female hottie with upper body advantages. As the middle-aged guy slips into a seat in front of her, they both smile and laugh.

Guy who just walked into the bar and asked for the price of a beer is not amused.
How come, he asks himself, he’s stuck with male acquaintances on a Saturday night while old geezers like this one — swift dagger look to his left — bags the babes?

He is mystified.

The mix of contempt and regret quickly evaporates as the ice-cold beer arrives.

Both guys proceed to exchange life stories.

First guy is drinking just a few hours of the night away until he gets lubricated enough to write something, he says, without mentioning that he maintains a website.

It’s far too complicated, he says to himself, thinking of some people whom he occasionally meets, asking him: “Website, what’s that?”

Meanwhile, during his turn to talk, his acquaintance tells him that he once drove a BMW out of a twenty-foot metal container.

He says he was assisted only by his wits and two thin planks of wood.

Two planks of wood, he repeats. Two planks of wood.

It happened twice, he says, forgetting the name of the other sportscar.

Guy nods.

Interesting life you’ve led, he says, as he catches old geezer and the girl get into a cab.

He takes another pull at his bottle of beer.

It’s cold and crisp, just about every bottle of beer he’s had since he started drinking regularly at the age of 20.

“At least you were good enough to bring the car out safely,” guy says to his companion.

“You don’t know half of it,” the other guy replies. “Two planks of wood. They were thin — like plywood.”

He nods. The other guy nods. They drink.

In a fit of inspiration, guy says to himself, “Hey, why don’t I write about this cool restaurant?”
———————
This piece of “fast fiction” — for the lack of a better definition — is an unpaid piece for Chickenalicious Restaurant, a newly-opened bar at 22 A Matapang corner Malakas Streets in Barangay Pinyahan in Quezon City. Forgot the price of the beer but you can call them up to ask 227 4323. It’s open Monday to Saturday from 10:00 AM to 9:00 PM. House specialties (which is served with rice) include Chicken Inasal (P83), Liempo Inasal (P70), Pork Inasal (five pieces P100), Grilled Boneless Bangus (P105), Pinaputok na Pla-Pla (P110), Sirloin Oversized Steak (P120), Pansit Canton/Bihon (P75). Chickenalicious Restaurant also takes bulk orders, its says in its flyer.
Just to make it clear: No consideration, financial or otherwise, has been made between the owner of this website and any employee, relative, owner, or stakeholder of Chickenalicious Restaurant.

From all over, I have received various forms of assistance — unfortunately, none of them financial — but most of them unexpected. (Good enough.)

And to them, my benefactors, I dedicate this blog entry.

Meanwhile, friends who have decided to risk their reputations by sticking with me through thick and thin all these years (i.e., long-term friends, college buddies, et. al.) deserve separate, individual blog entries, commending their support, loyalty, etc. (I’ll get to that soon. After all, I’ve written enough stuff about you.)

In any case, this sudden outburst of gratitude was the result of having received a set of photos for the header of this blog.

It came from Nikka C., a former co-worker whom I will repay by sending two books her way. Thanks, Nikka, I appreciate the photos very much.

Others who deserve my thanks include:

Alan R., for free beer, pizza, and advice (journalistic and otherwise);

Doc Caloy R., for putting up with the visits to his clinic in which the only thing we talked about were old Mac computers. I hope the Color Classic I gave you is still running;

Toff H., for fixing my Palm V years ago and offering to take up all my old electronic junk. I should have shipped some your way but they were just too heavy;

Butch D., for putting up with the irregular house visits, unreasonable requests, and failure to keep in touch regularly;

Mr. mid-sized food company chief executive (whose name I now forgot) who replaced the batteries on my Palm V ten years ago;

And last but not least, the older unidentified woman who lent me her pair of scissors while at the post office which moments later, I returned broken but didn’t tell her about it. (Sorry if you felt betrayed by some random stranger. But really, that pair of scissors was nibbling its way towards retirement, ma’am.)

To all of you, thank you. (And to the Guy Upstairs, The Big G., or whatever other crazies may call you, thanks.)

Yes, I did.

And it took me one whole night to transform a website that’s somehow easy on the eyes into what it is now — cheap and ugly.

It’s like British Petroleum’s oil mess, only smaller and fairly more manageable.

I promise to fix this soon, together with another update.

Another thing: I don’t think I’ll be able to bring back the old theme, Pure Magazine. Like all websites, I need to convert page views into pesos, however small. Just enough to cover domain and hosting costs.

In the meantime, thank you for visiting.

Come back soon.