A ratty encounter: Tales from this Godforsaken Whatever

Sunday has become the day of introspection for me, not that it's something OC-ly calendared on a friggin' monthly or weekly planner because that would be ridiculous. While I'm not a church-goer and family days are things of the past from the point of view of the impoverished, I always find myself unwillingly immersed in this so-called introspection or even just mere thought-gallivanting when I do my laundry (read: handwashing). Of course, it's not something that's done on purpose because really now that would be totally outrageous. The dormancy and the surrounding dead air is the perfect atmosphere for plunging into a state of wanton thinking - just that, when I get tired of watching tricycles, vendors of fish, mais, ice cream (the dirty and the seemingly unlucrative retail vendors of known brands) and nonsense stuff like five-peso destructible toys, or when fantasizing about Aubrey Miles in several postitions in three different episodes of Xerex feels like an overplayed CD.

Last Sunday was kind of gloomy and I had the feeling that it will take another day for the clothes to dry out. It was muddy everywhere and the cemented part of the very small frontyard was just as filthy. I was alone since none of our neighbor co-renters did their washing that day. While I was doing my thing, a large rat snuck out of the largest pipe that lead to the canal and made its way near the faucet opposite me. The rat, which was now nibbling leftover rice grains thrown out of dishwashing and running directionless in the pool of murky water, was about three normal steps away from me. I cringed but not of fear and usual repugnance to this filthy rodents (aside from cockroaches) but in a serious moment of obervation. I could've easily brushed my hand off to shoo the rodent away, the size equalled to that of the kitten we used to nurse (that thanks to our retarded neighbor who whacked it to death is now rotting in the dark recesses of the sewers).

I watched the rat like it was some kind of episode on Discovery channel about house pests and their eating behaviors, my hands now rested on my knees like the observer that I am. And then it stopped and looked at me with those little black vermin eyes as if to say "so what now"? And then I remembered that film Willard, about a loner who develops a twisted friendship with rodents. Then the rodent-infested thought was replaced by the face of Jack Nicholson as Frank Costello in The Departed when he was mimicking a rat like he was born to do it. After the rat returned to the pipehole and vanished from my sight, I was trying to put the encounter into some metaphysical level (wtf???) like it was some kind of premonition or an omen. Oh, now I get it. The vermin was trying to say na mahirap pa ako sa daga, and that it was just his lucky day because he had a meal without being shooed by a human being (who happens to have Zemmiphobia), which could impress to him that their species have attained a .00001 niche upgrade in terms of dominating a much higher-ranking species. Oh, jeez wtf.