In that morning, Maw and I had tried to call Malformed twice but the generic answering machine of a deep-voiced male turned on. For two hours, Maw managed to speak with the BitterOne. She talked about getting disability from her aneurysm and planned to retire because she is 62 years old already. Then she disclosed how my paternal Uncle Gigalo was in a drunken state that he threatened her: “You won’t live to see tomorrow”. Of course, he was brandishing a knife, which is typical of some thugs from the Batangas province of the Philippines. She called the cops on him. I wonder if the cops hauled his ass to jail. That was long ago when they were first dating, by the way.
The boy and girl were told during that night’s dinner of this latest story. The boy, like two other paternal cousins — Giant and Shill — remember many things from their childhood. I don’t fortunately. The boy recalled how Uncle Gigalo screamed at the wife and how he fired a couple of gunshots into the air. This was during New Year’s and he was in a drunken state, of course. The Shill had ran out into the night; grabbed hold of her dad’s right arm and jumped up and down, pleading with him to stop his nonsense. I sensed that the drunken guy was having fun and didn’t think he was endangering anyone. The boy and I made a duck and cover action to avoid the smelly fumes from the gunshots. The wife screamed: “Dong! Dong! Stop it now!” We all just looked at each other. Huh. And y’all think I make up stories.
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