Er, Japanese green chocolate

Meanwhile, daifuku (http://japanesefood.about.com/od/japanesedessertsweet/r/daifuku.htm)

The silver spoon that I wasn’t born with.

Too Many Santas on a Cupcake

 

Killing A Mouse With A Bare Hand

“I should have learned many things from that experience, but when I look back on it, all I gained was one single, undeniable fact.  That ultimately I am a person who can do evil.” – Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

There it was, as on a high wire,
Balancing the electrical cord that
Hung from the bathroom door.
I gave it one look and all vileness,
All anger at something so hideous,
So dirty, so smelly, so small,
Welled up inside me like a geyser
On the verge of explosion.
With one stroke, I swatted the
Little rodent with an open palm,
Sending the vermin to the antiseptic,
White-tiled bathroom floor,
And it ceased to move.
Blood slowly flowed from its side,
And with it, a little mouse liver, or bladder,
Or something that looked like an organ.
I stared at this lifeless little being, thinking
That it did not know what hit it.
I didn’t know what hit it, either.

Bornick (A Work In Progress since 08.08.07)

Bornick loved variety, but it was a luxury he couldn’t afford: one, because he was married, and marriage did create problems with promiscuity (like, duh!); and, two, because he really didn’t have more-than-enough money to sustain his whores. Let’s face it: Bornick married for the money, no question about it. His good looks that swept many a gal and gay off their feet, his bronze-tan, muscovado complexion that seemed to glisten like molasses beneath fluorescent light, his casual-yet-gentlemanly demeanor that was a combination of dirt-poor crassness and filthy-rich character. Bornick knew how to play the machismo game and he played it well. All he needed to do was to find the loneliest of lonely middle-aged bachelorettes that swam in Papa’s money and snubbed their noses at Mama’s profligacy. And so he did, find himself an azucarera de mama from among the sugar province’s de buen familia who didn’t care so much about his daytime, or even nighttime, whereabouts, so long as he paddled her in bed like a dragonboat race when her basal temperature was high. Mae, his wife (an acronym for Maria Alona Evangelina), wanted an heiress or heir; he just wanted to win the dragonboat race, undoubtedly, while rowing his boat up two or three streams.

Bornick was christened John Deere Mayapis Baton, named after the tractor that his Tatay maneuvered across cane fields during the planting season, who so loved this mechanical wonder that made his labor much easier that he decided to impress it upon his only son in perpetuity. Inspite of his colonial-sounding name, however (a John Deere Baton, indeed, could easily be mistaken to be British), Bornick came to be called Bornick by the children of the hacienda community for a very Hiligaynon reason that was as physiological as it was amusing.