New Year's Eve
Ernesto's household didn't get to eat chicken that night, nor the next night, nor that whole week. Even with all their effort that day, they couldn't afford the promised dinner without worrying about what to eat the next days. But instead of a lost hope, their hearts and mind found a common ground that evening. They decided to save up for a small business after Pablo suggested to instead eat "chicken skin" that night.
Pablo now roams the street not to look at other people's trash but to sell food. They saved up that entire year and owned a stall of chicken skin and a bicycle. It doesn't mean that everything is fairytale happy ending after that, no. There were days when sales are low and the rain swat their customers, needless to say, the struggles of any other person doing what they're doing.
Times are still tough but their family is even tougher. And as for the promised chicken? Of course they didn't forget about that. They ate the damn thing that New Year's Eve. Not just one but three juicy chickens. All was well.
Pleasant Afternoon
"How can you do that to him?! We both know that the only way we'll be having chicken for dinner tomorrow is if we all DIE and go to heaven!" Teresa said forcing her voice to stay low while pinching her husband. Ernesto knew this was coming, and as they lay in bed, he wrapped her in his tired but warm arms and squeezed her tight just like how she wants him to.
"Relax, love. I'll find a way. You know I'll do." He said. "I know you'll TRY." Teresa replied. There are a thousand things running in her mind right now, most of them about how on earth they're gonna get that chicken.
The next day was Monday, which meant that Pablo was supposed to go to school, which his parents thought he did. What they do not know is that Pablo heard their conversation last night, and he decided to help. He skipped the afternoon class after pretending to have a stomach ache and then proceeded to his friends' classrooms. The children then made their way to finding scraps. It was like any other day, except this time, Pablo was a little more enthusiastic. The prospect of being able to help his parents have a delicious dinner that night made him continue to find valuables even after his friends went home.
Teresa, on the other hand, went to her customers. Eventhough Monday is not her usual day of laundry, she approached the kind family as if Monday was the new laundry day that she decided herself. "I'll even wash your clean clothes if you want. Just please let me do the laundry today." And she succeeded.
It was a good weather that day for Ernesto. The sky was cloudy and the constant breeze allowed him to feel less tired that afternoon. He knows that whatever performance he put out at work that day, he wouldn't get any wage increase. He still worked better than he usually did, knowing that Teresa was probably doing her best too.
CABANATUAN CITY SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL
CABANATUAN CITY SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL
All that Ernesto could do was put on a strong face in front of his family. His boss had talked to him one on one regarding the deductions to be made on his already low salary. And as much as he wanted to argue that it wasn't his fault the the cement mixer has stopped working, he only swallowed his words for he knew that talking back would be fruitless. He also knows that Mr. Sonny was only venting out his anger on him and that talking back would not do him any good.
That brings us to the current situation- there's nothing but rice, hot water and salt for dinner in their household tonight. His wife, Teresa knew something was wrong, based on her concerned face. But he chose to ignore it for now and put on a straight face while he tried to put food in his mouth. " I can't let my son be familiar with only salt and rice as food. I can't just let my Teresa lose weight with this stupid excuse for a food." Ernesto thought.
And just then, his son spoke, putting him out of his thoughts, "Hopefully tomorrow we'll have Payless for dinner! What do you guys think?" .
Ernesto almost cried at his son, Pablo's words. Almost. But what he did next surprised all three of them.
"Payless? No. We'll have chicken for dinner tomorrow!" Pablo's excitement over the prospect of delicious and rare food tomorrow drowned out the sound of frustration that escaped his mother. Teresa swears to God that as much as she loves her husband, they both know he can't afford the promised dinner. They just can't. Not even on her birthday were they able to, nor in New Year's eve, nor in his own birthday. Just no, it's not possible.
The Promised Dinner
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JANINE C. SORIANO
Delayed Future
My plane is delayed. Don't you hate it when that happens? It is some sort of mechanical failure, the pilots say. You'd think that the Prime Minister's plane would be maintained in immaculate condition, wouldn't you? They shouldn't be discovering these things right as I'm jetting off to the EU summit with the Russian Federation concerning the state of Crimea. The UN-administered re- gime of independence for the region has been an utter failure. Instead of creating a stable buffer between Europe and Russia, it's only led to civil warfare. But I'm pushing to end it once and for all. I've been on the front lines of this conflict, both as a platoon leader during Britain's first intervention in 2051, and as a politician in Parliament urging for greater action against the Russian-backed rebels. I railed against our former Prime Minister's weak response, as well as the pitiful attempts of the EU Expeditionary force. And I did such a good job of it that my own Independence Party won a majority in Parliament only this past year. And, using my newfound political clout, I was able to convince our Russian counterparts to join us for a peace our Russian counterparts to join us for a peace meeting in Tel Aviv.
Israel has done a fine job of staying neutral despite sharing a border with the EU's Turkish territory. After an hour on the tarmac, my plane is finally able to take off. We soon reach a cruising altitude, and I check my watch. The EU President and Foreign Minister should have landed already with their gaggle of Presidents and Prime Ministers in tow. They'll be whisked away to the summit without even checking into the hotel. The limousines will arrive at roughly 2:30, and the bombs are set to detonate at 2:45 in the midst of the scheduled press conference kicking off the summit. Russia's counterpart will also be conveniently delayed, sparing them from the carnage as well.
Naturally, this fact will be held up later as proof of their guilt. Oh, did I not mention that I'm the reason the plane had mechanical problems? That it's all a deliberate ruse to make it look like I should have been a victim (to gain sympathy in the press) while simultaneously ridding me of those ninnies from the peace bloc who'd prefer to work things out with words? That it will soon be revealed that Russian operatives were the culprits of the bombing? It's the perfect Casus Belli.