Monsoon Season on Triple Espresso

I remember everything like it all happened last week. Well, it did all happened last week. But, it was one helluva week to forget and always remember. It started out like any other week, it started on a Monday. A week like most weeks within the busy bodies of Makati and the Metro; time-ins, phone calls, paper works, lunch break, more phone calls, getting screwed by your boss (kidding!), more paper works, and overtime (boo!). Being a lazy person disguised under the banner of ‘#YOLO’ and that kind of shit, I literally frown upon overtime. But that is not my business nor my subject to this date, so I will touch upon that matter some other date.

Anyway, after an hour of stings from Killer Bees and a Bane inspired back pain because of a hunch backed staring competition with my 14 inch Jurassic monitor screen, I swiveled my overused chair and started to pack my things. The glass window looks moist; suggesting a mild (and probably wet) tingly weather outside. In hindsight, I should have seen this as one of the many omens about sleepless wet underwear nights and Third World water rowing mornings.

Being the silly and ‘Carpe fucking Diem!’ kind of chap, I boarded the lift straight down to the ground floor. When I looked across the hall and straight to the exit hole, the only thing my lips could utter was a string of obscene and disgusting words (cuss[sic.]) borne out of the profound surprise the sights ahead have endowed upon me.
It was raining cats and dogs. Literally. No, not literally. That would be chaos, like 2012 and instead of meteorites and space rocks falling from the sky, it would be different species of dogs and felines. From the husky, Siberian Huskies, to the warm (No offense PETA/PAWS) Askals and from the allergy triggering furry cats to the not so furry allergy triggering cats. It would be a load of shit storm as well (inb4OPisafaggot).
But enough of that. The rain was really strong at that moment. I was half worried about our house and my family, and the other half about my pants. I mean, I just have 2 pairs of pants at home; one with a perfect fit (one I was wearing that day) and the other a bit too large for me. Thus resulting in multiple pull ups while walking or going to the loo or in-front of a client, which is a really pain in the ass. So, I had to give up either one of those two; the pants, or the safety of my family? I had to choose quickly too, time is running and I’m also feeling a pee coming (I pee often when I see or hear pouring water. That’s normal right?) really soon.
I parked my stuff, opened my bag, and took out my pair of trusty flip flops, slipped them on (After removing my shoes of course), folded my pants a little (Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…) and took of the rain like there’s no Mañana.
I left the building at around 6:35. I got to the bus stop at Ayala Avenue at around 6:50, and I got on a bus at around 7:45. Yeah, I was stuck for more or less an hour because of the friggin’ rain, and not to mention all the friggin’ people as well; with their friggin’ wet umbrellas, and friggin’ wet coats and everything.
We were about a little more than a hundred people waiting for a bus beneath two magnanimously small waiting sheds. I felt a little remorse with my appearance; a gray 1/4 sleeved polo barong, black khaki pants folded up to the chins and a pair of dark blue flip flops. It was out of place, really. Like a pinch of raisin among a bunch of ripe and sweet grapes. But later on, I felt remorse to the others who were donning a long sleeved polo with necktie and all of the accessories and fancy shit you could think about. The weather doesn’t have a dress code. If it chooses to skull fuck you, you will be skull fucked.
Anyway, after waiting for almost an hour amidst the conglomerate of wet (and wild. NOT.) bodies for a bus that’s not fully loaded with people or had far flung destinations (Bukidnon anyone?) I was able to aboard a bus going to Crossing.

I got home at around a quarter to 10. Needless to say that the rain was gushing down like Angel falls on a lethal dose of Starbucks triple Espresso.
It was just the beginning, but I could tell that the weather was taking its time, buying lubricant and stuff, for a skull fucking to forget. And yes, it wasn’t wearing any protection.

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