All Voices Fiction: "Johnnybee"

The thing about being a psychic is you can’t play the lotto because you will win. Now what kind of reasoning is that? It sounds like Sun TzuSun Tzu getting high on shabu. I even know the contents in all the brief cases in Kapamilya Deal Or No Deal but I’m forbidden to join. Of course I can take my salary in Video City and compound it at 10% per annum but how can I pay the rent? Or buy cell phone load? Or even more important: how can I afford to spend Good Friday on the beach?

At any rate, I also noticed that I’m getting younger and healthier physically, and my stunningly gorgeous looks and animalistic charisma increased ten-fold and tough luck if you think I’m exaggerating because this is my story and I’m the one telling. I also learned the value of humility and I can look anyone in the eye and drill into their thick skulls that I’m more down-to-earth than anyone else in this steadily-melting planet. You know who I look? Cogie Domingo. As in!

It was the best of times. I was 16 when it happened. It just happened. Click, just like that! All of a sudden I see dead people, even people who don’t know they’re dead. Three of them actually signed up for the People’s Initiative. An added bonus is my new-found self-healing powers – more convenient than drinking virgin coconut oil. It’s sort of like Constantine meets Wolverine. It changed my life in a moment. Thank God I was already circumcised.

But it was also the end of innocence. Perfect timing too. During that time I was the star dancer in a gay bar in Retiro. To be honest with you, I just got fired for having erectile dysfunction. Apparently being a customer service rep every night for three straight years can do that to you. Even before I got the job, I spent a year in Singalong as a sex slave but let’s not complicate things.

I never felt so free in my life, even compared to my arrest for vagrancy in Luneta when I was 12. The bad news was that I didn’t have an IC (Identity Card) and the good news is that the precinct commander had an IC (Identity Crisis). I called him Sgt. Pedo Penduko.

It’s as is I’ve been living in black and white and now everything blossomed in vibrant living colors. From Schindler’s List I went to Yahoo! screensavers. We’re talking about full high-definition 2 million pixel images using 1080 effective scanning lines in a flat panel screen with a 16:9 aspect ratio. It’s kinda like getting de-virginized but not in a double-feature moviehouse and certainly not with someone with an Adam’s apple.

So what are my powers aside from scrambling eggs? To get an idea, combine a Spirit Warrior and a Jedi Knight without a lightsaber: that’s me, and I can do it even while doing Sudoku puzzles and figuring out why on earth would anyone dip their fried chicken in mayonnaise.

But like everything else in life, there’s a catch: I can’t use my powers for personal gain or to take advantage of other people. Sadly, this includes hypnotizing ukay-ukay sellers to give me discounts.

There’s this guy who appeared in my dreams once. He looked like Tony Carreon. He told me the rules, he said that I’ll be different, that sometimes I will feel like an outcast, and he warned, “You cannot enter politics!” Then I asked, “What about showbiz?” Then he answered, “What about it?” Then I said that, well, showbiz is different from politics, and he said, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I‘ve heard since Rizal was the daddy of Hitler!” So I just asked, “Why me?” Then he replied, “Why not?” He asked if I want the gift. I said yes. Then he asked, “Why?” Then I said, “Why not?”

And so it went. But hey, I was just a kid. I became his prodigal son – which is strange for an orphan who ran away from Boys’ Town – then I auditioned for Pinoy Big Brother and got hit by a bulldozer.

So that’s why I ended up two years later in Lerma, living in a boardinghouse with a landlady who sells ice for two pesos. I call her the Ice Queen. She looks like Dexter Doria. I’m working in a video shop while studying at STI. A former customer helped me get the job and I’m only taking short courses. That’s because I don’t have any personal documents. Legally I don’t exist. I have nothing to show for myself except nightmares.

But I’m starting all over again. A new beginning. I guess I wanted something new in my life but darn if I know what. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.

Did I tell you about the time I battled the forces of Darkness? No, silly, not the police. It started on April 12, 2007. I was 18. Midnight came. Then I became 19. How time flies. Happy birthday to me! It was already 13th.

A Friday.

It was already 12:05 AM but I still can’t sleep. Midnight has no significance for me, not anymore. I’ve outgrown the superstitious tradition of Shake, Rattle and Roll. Besides, I’ve already knocked at my wooden desk so I know I’m protected.

I was naked with only a white towel wrapped in my waist, eating a bowl a instant canton noodles, looking out the window and counting the España-bound jeeps emerging from the Quezon Boulevard underpass. The radio was playing You’ll Be Safe Here by Rivermaya. Home Radio 97 dot 9. I was thinking of the time when I rushed a former benefactor to the PGH emergency room and my adventures with the security guards and the interns. For some strange reason all my room mates are out. But it’s just coincidence of course. I believe in coincidence. I also believe in Santa ClausSanta Claus, The Tooth Fairy and that the moon is made of cheese.

My sense tingled. There was someone in the room! I whirled around.

There were two young men. One was wearing a white shirt with collar, and the other was dressed in a long-sleeved blue polo. I accidentally dropped my noodles, the white bowl shattering in the floral-cream linoleum. They remained silent. Their eyes were pools of void, witnesses to millennia of murder.

I backed away, my nerves shot to pieces. Happens all the time.

The Guy in White said, “You have to stop running away, Johnnybee. Sometimes you have to take a stand, to fight your own fear, to conquer your own hate, before they consume you.”

I get unnerved when other people read my thoughts and I can’t read theirs. “W-Who – what are you.” I managed to croak. So much for the Spirit Warrior.

“

Well, for one thing we’re not Electrolux salesmen,” the Guy in Blue deadpanned. “Don’t worry, we’re the good guys. But the real evil is on its way.”

My skin prickled.

There was a knock on the door.

I was stunned. I immediately visualized a white light from God entering my top-most chakra and enveloping my entire body.

The knocking became louder, and then I heard my landlady call out, “Hey Johnnybee, what’s going on in here?”

I got even more scared but I went to the door and opened it. The Ice Queen peered in suspiciously.

“What’s that noise?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Romas,” I said, “it just slipped.”

“What did?” Then she saw the broken pieces and her hair-rollers bobbed menacingly “Are you waiting for me to slurp it up?” she asked sarcastically, her eyes straying to my…towel.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll do it myself,” I said, flustered. “Bitch.” I added under my breath.

“What did you say?”

“He said Bitch,” clarified Jao Mapa. “It means female Cerberus.”

I glared at him.

“Did you say something?” the Ice Queen asked me again. She started to growl.

I looked back at her. And again, eyes were straying below my belly-button.

“Yes he did!” said Jao Mapa cheerfully. “He said ‘Bitch.’ That’s Bee, Eye –“

I looked at him – as if looks could kill.

“I’m talking to you!” the Ice Queen boomed, showering me with saliva.

I looked back at her.

“You deaf or something?” she roared.

“Ah, yeah, look who’s talking, yo!” said Jao Mapa, gesturing like Andrew E.

I looked – glared – at him again.

"Hey you!” the Ice Queen was jabbing her finger at my left nipple.

I looked back at her. I don’t get it: she was practically being insulted by my visitor yet she acted like the psycho didn’t exist.

“The lady from Sampaloc can’t see us, Johnnybee,” the Guy in White, who looked like Mark Anthony Fernandez, said. “Nor hear us. My honorable colleague cannot interpelate her filibuster.”

I looked at him in wonder.

“STOP SPINNING YOUR HEAD LIKE A FREAKING ROOSTER!” screamed the Ice Queen.

“I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Romas,” I stammered. “I really am,” I added, crossing my fingers. “I’ll clean up now.”

“You’d better or I’ll – incidentally, you’re a month late in the rent,” said the Ice Queen. “Again.” She looked down meaningfully.

Oh no you don’t, I thought. Aloud I said, “Gee, Mrs. Romas, I’ll give you the money tomor--”

“The gentleman from Boys Town should not lie,” said Mark AnthonyMark Anthony Fernandez. “It’s conduct unbecoming.”

“Next week?” I finished weakly, looking at him.

“There you go again,” said the Ice Queen, amazed. “Freaking cock.”

My mind touched her mind.

Push.

She looked at me coyly. “If you money problem, Johnnybee,” she said, pinching my right nipple, “you talk to me, okay?” She winked.

That’s not exactly what I had in mind.

“No, you talk to me,” said Jao Mapa. “I’m his talent manager. I get ten percent. Union scale. I’ll also take the VAT.”

Mark Anthony Fernandez and I looked at him and rolled our eyes.

The Ice Queen looked at me and also rolled her eyes. She turned away, shaking head, her hair-rollers jiggling alarmingly.

I closed the door and leaned on it. “Son of --” I started to whisper, and then I looked at my visitors and stopped.

The guy who looked like Mark Anthony Fernandez said, “May I express my apologies, my honorable colleague and I haven’t introduced ourselves properly. That’s unparliamentary. I’m Marlon.”

“Marlon,” I repeated dumbly.

He extended his forefingers and thumbs like guns and put them under his chin like Tolits.

“Hah!” the guy who looked like Jao Mapa said triumphantly. “Finally, I caught you lying while not under oath!”

“I did not,” said Marlon, unperturbed. “That was real name.” He sighed. “Used to be, anyway.” He shrugged.

“I’ll tell the Itiks Committee,” Jao Mapa told the ceiling.

“Where’s the camera?” rasped Marlon. “Go ahead. Do it.”

“Itiks?” I asked, mystified.”That means ducks, right?”

“That’s in Taguig-Pateros,” said Jao Mapa. “Anyway, Pare, just call me Brando.”

“Brando.”

“He positively beamed and gave me a high-five. “Appear!”

My hand passed through his.

Fast Forward. I was walking up the path towards the haunted house. The gate was open and was creaking like a dying banshee. The whole place was cold, dark and forbidding. Even elementals are nowhere in sight. I was dressed in a black jacket, black jeans, black boots and a cowboy hat like what Jun Aristorenas wore in Harabas.I was trying to peer through the gloom when I sensed, rather than saw, the door open. A young man in a tuxedo was standing there. I stopped.

I was him.

“Little boy, if you’ve come to play Warcraft, I’m afraid your server will crash,” said the tech wizard, cool as you please. “Not to mention getting a virus that will delete all you puny little files.” He smiled. He looked like Ian Veneracion.

“I’m not here to play games,” I warned, clearing my throat. “I came here to stop you!” I felt like an idiot. “You know, thwart you plans?” Geez.

“Are you ready for a revelation?” he challenged, his bright eyes burning like fire.

Dramatically, I took a White Rabbit from my pocket, took out the candy, popped it in my mouth and put the wrapper back in my pocket. I chewed defiantly.

“I,” declared the wizard, “just put a kettle on the stove!” There was thunder.

What can anyone say to that?

“I’m preparing Milo,” he explained.

Ha! I got him on the defensive!

“And there’s also BluSkies cheese crackers,” he continued. “Perfect combination.

“I am the man they all fear!” I shouted, giving him his chance to surrender. “I am the one they call Van Helsing!”

He replied, “Would you care to have some snack, Johnnybee?”

Did I detect a hint of pleading in his voice? Then suddenly the wind started acting up like a thousand Furies. The temperature dropped into the abyss, and I could see my frosted breath. I shivered violently. I felt goosebumps marching over my skin like a platoon of dead soldiers.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No!” I said breathlessly. “No way!”

“As you wish,” he said graciously, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

I went in. At that moment, a bolt of lightning sent down an avocado tree to where I’ve been standing.

The wizard closed the door.

Rewind. I immediately got dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt I bought at Zurbaran and cleaned up the mess. No use crying over spoilt canton, I consoled myself. I got up and faced Marlon and Brando. “All right,” I demanded. “What do you want? If it’s money then wrong number.”

“May I assure the gentleman from Boys Town that allocations are not calendared for this session?” said Marlon. “My honorable colleague and I are facing a gridlock so we need to restore check and balance --”

“Why does he speak like that?” I asked Brando, who was peering at the corridor by pushing his head through the wall.

“He’s a congressman,” replied Brando. “Was” he added. “Actually he filed a bill to remove the pork barrel so he was impeached --”

“Do you mind?” Marlon said dryly. Turning to me again, he said, “Johnnybee, we got a problem.”

“Let me,” offered Brando. “Hey, I was in covert operations so this is my specialty.” He tuned to me and said, “We received intelligence reports that the Anti-Christ will be born in the Philippines this --”

“The Anti-Christ will be a caregiver?” I asked, puzzled. “That’s an oxymoron.”

“Yes, like Military Intelligence,” said Marlon, giving Brando a baleful look.

“Listen,” said Brando. “Our mole has confirmed that Satan has possessed a telepath to serve as a conduit --”

“A spy?”

“A stud”

“The gentleman from Hell,” said Marlon. “is manipulating a computer hacker in Balete Drive. His psi powers are stronger than yours, Johnnybee. He might defeat you.”

“You’d be surprised,” I murmured. “The Ultimate Survivor, gentleman, is in this room, and his name is not Mark Herras.”

“The gentleman from Quezon City,” said Marlon, “ who now calls himself Prime Evil because he’s the Devil’s lethal weapon, by the way, has already accessed all the porno sites in he Web so he’s ready.”

“We’re still waiting for the RAND report,” said Brando. “But our analysts predict that he’ll make his move today.”

“Ah, you want me to change the course of history!” I said. “Sure, “I’m a superhero. You know the song Mang Jose by Parokya? It’s all in a day’s work if the price is right.” Then a thought struck me. “Wait, what’s your stake here?”

“The law states,” said Marlon, “that if you get good grades – like for saving the world or something – you’ll move up to a higher section next school year. You study and study until you gradate.”

“You’re still undergrads?” I asked. “I thought you guys were sent from above.”

“Above the ceiling,” shrugged Brando. “There are no dogs there so it ain't heaven. There’s no beer either. But hey, it’s more accommodating than Kintanar Asteroid.”

“Alright Johnnybee, said Marlon. “Let’s have an executive session to discuss your TF.”

“What’s TF?”

“Talent Fee.”

“Ah, okay.”

(This story originally appeared in Philippine Graphic, May 14, 2007)