Who Am I?

I look into the mirror I couldn't help but notice the changes.
Who are you?
I am the Man.
A Goodfella.
No, I am Iago.

Whatever happened to the sweet and innocent one that once upon a time inhabits this body? Don't ask me for I don't know the answer.
Don't know. Ask somebody else. Ask the Dude on the streets.
Now I must admit that I am not the same person I used to be.
My life has been a rollercoaster ride through a kaleidoscope world since that fateful day in October eons ago when I finally decided to live out my dreams.
One day I am Dr. Jekyll. The next day I'm Mr. Hyde.

For a time I am the Man with the Iron Mask!

I am Dr. Scrooge. I am a creature from the dark abyss!

I dare you to ask my good friend Odin.
Am I your Prince Charming? Sir Galahad? Frankenstein!?
No, I am your typical boy next door.
Am I the Anti-Christ??

A Chameleon under the sun?

I am the man without a face.

I am the Menace!
The man from Ermita.
The Scourge of Manila.
I am the Tin Man.
I am the Iceman.

The man on the moon.

The fool on the hill.

The angel of death!

And NO one can escape my wrath!
I am an angel.
I am evil.
I am Lucifer, Nosferatu, Beelzebub rolled into one.
But
I come in peace.
And you can call me John.
I am the Son of Man!

So, who's the man in the mirror?

Cogito ergo sum. I think therefore I am.

The Lady And Me

I woke up early in the morning with a throbbing pain in my head. I have no recollection whatsoever of the things that happened the previous night.

So, imagine my surprise when I found a body in my bathroom lying in a pool of her own blood!

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to shake off the cobwebs in my head. I tried to remember the things that occurred the night before…

Then I remember driving into an upscale club along Jupiter Street in Makati to unwind after a hard day in the office where I went straight to the bar and ordered two shots of Johnnie Walker Single Malt Whisky. This was quickly followed by a glass of Carlos I Brandy that left a burning sensation in my throat.

My head began to swirl as I grabbed a bottle of Corona and watched the people on the dance floor dancing to the rhythm of the techno music.

Then, in the corner of my eye I caught her gyrating on the ledge in wild abandon with eyes closed as if in a trance and laughing at the top of her lungs.

“Probably high on E!” I muttered to myself as I continued to watch her dance. She’s wearing a red backless top that left just a bit to imagination the two large tits that were beneath it and in tight blue denim accented with red pumps that gave one a funny impression of her being a trying hard --- Vamp!

I continued my binge and tried the cocktail called Screaming Orgasm and Sex on the Forest respectively that was quickly chased by a shot of Stolichnaya Vodka. After I while, I asked for another round of the sweet Vodka and smelled a familiar scent in the air that brought back memories of Diana, my first sweetheart and victim…

It was her favorite Escada perfume and for a moment I was lost in deep thought and when I did finally come out of it , I felt that old familiar feeling that someone is staring at you behind your back. So, I turned around and lo and behold, found the Vamp looking straight into my eyes and smiling at me with her perfect white teeth and was now sitting right next to me in the bar and drinking a Zombie.

I told the bartender that the lady’s drink is on me. She smiled again and thanked me and started a conversation that range from small talk to the absurd to trivial matters but we did not really care for we enjoyed each other’s company.

She asked me to join her in the dance floor an offer that I find quite hard to refuse. And so we danced. And we danced all right until we kissed and kissed and kissed unmindful of the rowdy crowd on the dance floor. I smelled her sweet breath even under the obvious influence of alcohol and felt her tongue in my mouth and I felt something. Her tongue is pushing something into my mouth!

And she succeeded and then whispered in my ear that I should join her in her trip. I swallowed the damn pill and that was the last thing I remembered…

My recollections were abruptly cut short by the doorbell ringing. I took a towel and wrapped it around my torso and answered the door. It was just the Mailman delivering my Time Magazine subscriptions. I went back inside and stared at the body lying prostrate in rigor mortis in front of me and pondered on what to do with her next.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline, I picked her up and brought her to the kitchen. I dropped her on the Mahogany table where I expertly chopped her with the Butcher’s knife into several small pieces taking good care of her head, tits, fingers, and toes as I carefully and meticulously sorted them from the rest of her body.

I put them inside a black plastic bag and put the rest of her into a denim duffel bag, brought them out and laid them on the passenger seat of my Ford Ranger in the garage.

I washed up and cleaned up the mess, sprayed Clorox and Lysol and mopped the floor until not a trace of her was left. Satisfied, I took a long hot shower and cleaned myself. Afterwards, I set the alarm clock and jumped right back into the bed and zzzz’s my way into dreamland…

The buzzing of the clock jolted me back into my senses. It was already past 12 in the morning. I dressed up and went out driving into the nearest Mercury Drug Store outlet and bought a pair of size 7 surgical gloves and a can of Lemon air freshener.

While the rest of Metro Manila was sound asleep, I was out there driving around the narrow side streets of Makati and Manila; from Bangkal to Palanan to San Andres and Malate in Manila, tossing the chopped meat out of the window into the waiting mouths of hungry stray dogs that populated the area as I passed by.

After the duffle bag was empty of its contents, I turned toward Forbes Street until I reach Pritil in Tondo and followed the narrow asphalted road until I went out northwards towards Navotas.

When I passed by the old Smokey Mountain dumping site, I slowed down and tossed the empty duffel bag together with the black plastic bag out of the window and into the mound of thrash on the roadside.I drove for several minutes until I came out on Rizal Avenue and quietly headed for my flat in downtown Manila.

Two and a half hours of roaming around and driving into the dead of night and erasing the last traces of her was peanuts!

The next morning the tabloids screamed with the news that human body parts of what investigators believed to have once belonged to a woman in her early 20's were found near Smokey Mountains by scavengers. My office mates had an animated discussion that day about the “Chop-chop Lady” and they were expounding their various theories on the reason behind the killing.

When I told them about my version they brushed it off and shrugged their shoulders and just laughed at the glaring absurdity of my claims.

Then a curious office mate sidled up to me and in a soft voice asked me, “What are you smiling at?”

I answered him with a crazy grin on my face, “you know, I was out there with that poor girl last night and yes, I did the damn thing!”

Dead Punks

Walking along a dark alley in Quiricada in the early evening of a Saturday in September in the year of the Dragon, I stumbled into a group of young Pinoy Punks. Clad in tattered leather jackets sourced from the nearby Ukay- ukay thrift shops in Bambang and sporting crazy Mohawks, they accosted me for looking them straight in the eyes longer than the usual permitted glance.

“Hey, asshole! What the fuck do you want?” said the leader of the group.

“We better teach the fuck ‘bout the law of the streets!” chorused the other gang members as they dashed like a bunch of Apaches in their ear- splitting rebel yells towards me with unexplained rage on their scowling faces that were obviously aped from watching too many B- movies or just high on rugby or shabu in this case.

“Uh-uh, what do we have here? I didn’t know that there are punks in the Philippines, huh!” I replied in my mocking nasal twang complete with a sarcastic smirk that I could muster for them to see my contempt for their kind.

I looked around and saw countless faces etched with a mixture of fear and indifference from the gathering crowd of on-lookers…

I stepped back slowly and thought about the art of “Bitbit-tse” that is the best form of self- defense in this kind of situation but did not act on it. My inherent Pinoy blood oozing with machismo prevented me from turning the other cheek and running away from a fight even if I am far outnumbered and unarmed.

I took a deep breath in rapid successions and willed myself to relax as the four screaming punks came rushing in. The first dude attacked me with his deadly left hooks and right straights but I stepped aside and parried his blows as I launched a vicious counter-attack that caught him in his glass chin and staggered down to his knees.

The next one came roaring, an Indian straight out of the cowboy movies complete with his fist whirling in the air but a solid right straight to the chest stopped him on his tracks and put him down to the ground gasping for precious oxygen.

Then I caught the two remaining punks with successive roundhouse kicks into their faces and stomachs in their moments of hesitations when they saw what happened to their comrades as they fell one after the other to the muddy ground. My years of training in mixed Martial Arts really helped me in this particular situation.

As they staggered back to regain their bearings, I turned my back and confidently walked away which turned out very costly, a mistake that almost cost me my life that I had regretted to this very day.

I felt the sudden surge of pain at the back of my head followed by the crimson spurt of blood that looked like a miniature fountain followed by blurring of vision as darkness began to set in as a result of a stone that struck me thrown treacherously by one of the punks in his desperate move to get even and regain their honor in the yes of the crowd.

I saw them running towards me; this time armed with fan knives but were stopped on their tracks by the sudden bursts of gunfire from a semi-automatic weapon from a responding lawman just before I lost my consciousness.

I woke up in the hospital bed the next day with policemen telling me to file a frustrated homicide and serious physical injuries against my attackers but I refused.

I stayed in the hospital for another week licking my wounds. I spent the entire time pondering on my near brush with death that all the more strengthened my belief that I am here on this planet with a purpose and that I am invincible!

After being released from the hospital, in a span of two months, I evened up the score when I picked them up one by one in the mean streets of Quiricada, Avenida, Tayuman and Santa Cruz with my trusted and ever reliable Beretta.

The Police as usual was clueless on the dead bodies that turned up in the streets that they immediately put the blame the deaths of the punks to gang wars. One enterprising TV program even had an episode of the 'whole' thing that was quite hilarious--about a Serial Killer in Tondo!

But nobody took them seriously of course what with the Filipino’s notoriety for inherent skepticism on certain things and stuff until it happens to them. Ho-hum.

One thing is sure though, the people in that place can now have a sigh of complete relief from the mischief of the wayward punks that they must have thanked me in their prayers.

Basketbrawl

As I stepped into the hard court I knew right away that it’s my night.

The moment I got the ball and took my first shot beyond the arc only confirmed what I believed.

“Threeeeeeee points!” barked the crowd watching on the sidelines. On the next possession, our opponents scored on a fast break. Then we retaliated by scoring on a pick and roll. The game was close and we were battling neck and neck.

It helped that I was in a zone carrying the scoring load for my team by making 15 points in a single stretch. The first team to score 24 points wins the game and will take the pot of 2,000 pesos.

In a pick up game or street ball like this, the money is nothing. What matters most is the pride of winning and nothing else.

The score was a close 18-16 when the game turned dirty. On a rebound play my teammate was hit on the face by a wayward elbow. He retaliated by pushing the man as he made an attempt inside the paint in the ensuing play. It could have resulted into something more serious had it not been for the timely intervention of the proverbial cooler heads among the players and bystanders.

The game went on until it came to the last shot of the game.

We had ball possession and the score was 23- 22 in favor of our opponent. I received an inbound pass from my teammate and dribbled the length of the court.

They’re guarding us man to-man that would collapse into a zone defense the moment my teammate would post up. The defense was tight and there is no room for a clear shot.

Then suddenly I saw an opening and move for a lay-up but I saw the defense drawing on me. In that split of a second I made the fateful decision to pass the ball and in the corner of my eye I saw my teammate standing at the top of the keyhole unguarded.

I flicked a fancy behind the back pass to him as I soared up into the air. He caught the ball and drained the shot for the game winner.

The final score was 23-24 in our favor and as we made our way out of the basketball court, “high- fiving“, shouting and laughing in boisterous jubilation having put one up over the other team, I saw a knife being wielded by one of the players of the opposing team as he ran towards our direction.

By instinct or whatever you may call it I shouted a warning; we all scampered and ran into different directions. As I looked back I saw him caught and stabbed my teammate twice in the abdomen and again started to chase another one.

I ran into a nearby construction site and managed to get hold of a solitary piece of 2” x 2” wood block that then served as my improvised weapon in the process. I went after the assailant, caught up with him and lunged at him with a thunderous straight that caught him in the jaw, knocking him off unconscious to the ground.

I was about to deliver the coup de grâce on him but two burly policemen materializes out of nowhere and tackled me to the ground. The policemen were just passing by in their mobile car on a routine patrol when they saw the commotion and immediately responded to the mêlée.

My teammates brought the two victims at a nearby hospital while I went with the policemen to the station to give some statement; was held in detention for obvious reasons while waiting for the Fiscal’s Office to complete the case but with my family's machinations which is not uncommon in this corrupt country, I was finally released the following morning when no witnesses came forward in support of the charges that were supposedly being readied against me.

So, I went home for a much-needed rest and spent the rest of the day sleeping in my bed.

The following morning I went to the hospital and found out that my friend died due to loss of blood. His assailant survived and went home against medical advice the previous night. Apparently he felt safer in the streets than in a hospital bed.

But not for long for I managed to catch up with him two weeks later and avenged the death of my friend and teammate with the help of my old and reliable switch blade.

Joy Ride

One early Saturday evening as the Jeepney that I am riding was cruising along Quezon Avenue, I noticed a girl with a smiling face seated opposite to mine.I can tell that she's still in high school because she’s wearing a uniform of one of those Catholic Schools in downtown Manila.

I observed her in a not so obvious way- studying her moves, facial expressions, and demeanor while pretending to read a book on Rizal by Ambeth Ocampo.

She maybe around 15 years old but she was beautiful and big for her age; raven-haired and doe-eyed with porcelain skin and with a very nice set of pearly white teeth that goes with her oh-so- girly innocent smile. She could easily pass up for a beauty queen or a model or even a movie star so I thought to myself.

She alit at the SM City Complex and I followed her afterwards. She went into the food court and ordered a Burger and Fries combo. A couple of minutes later, another girl joined her and they went on with their meal with the usual chatter of hyper-active teenagers.

It's now 8:30 p.m. and it has been quite awhile so I decided that I need some time on my hands and got myself a six-pack of Ice-cold San Miguel Beer from one of the vendors in the food court. I was on my 5th mug of beer and a bit tipsy, when I noticed that they were gone.

I immediately run towards the entrance and was glad to see them, as they were about to ride a cab. Iimmediately hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to follow them.I learned that night that she lived in a modest bungalow somewhere near the Batasan Pambansa Complex in Quezon City.

The next day, I woke up very early and proceeded to her house and waited for her to come out.When she finally came out and rode the Jeepney, I followed and seated next to her. I enjoyed every minute of it especially so when I can smell her and her sweet perfume. It really gave me a lift that I was looking forward to it for almost everyday.

For three months, day in and day out, I was there seated inside the Jeepney next to my sweet little angel.

How I wish that it would go on forever and never to end.

But alas, some good things never really last as the old cliché goes.

For in the summer of that year I decided to end it all....

God Bless her soul.

A Day in the Life

I was sitting alone on a concrete bench at the Luneta, chewing endlessly on my tasteless Bazooka bubblegum while looking into the horizon through my Wayfarer sunglasses, unmindful of all the commotions around.

My mind drifted to far away places, far enough which was hard to fathom. Memories circled in my head and then pffft! ---

Broken only by the touch of a dirty hand from a dirty child begging for food while pointing to the Jollibee hamburger that lay on the cold chair. I smiled at him and gave him what he wanted and he ran towards his companions with glee.

I watched him eat the burger, ravenously, aware of hovering presence

other kids his age, eyeing him like wolves watching their prey. In a split second, the burger was gone and he returned to where he was before, there on the dirty pavement lying on his back pretending soundly asleep while holding a tin can by his right dirty and bony hand waiting for someone who will drop a coin or two.

I stood up, searched my pockets, and dropped a few five peso coins; he opened his eyes upon hearing the tinkling sounds of the coins as they hit the bottom of the tin can. He managed a naughty smile and looked me straight in the eye.

Then in a moment I signaled for him to follow me as I made my way out of the park into the parking lot along T.M. Kalaw Street. I got inside the car and started the engine as he knocked on the window with his bare knuckles. It was already dark and I asked him to join me for a ride. He cheerfully went in and sat on the passenger seat.

I sped off towards the CCP and parked my car near the unlit part of the condemned Manila Film Center building. Then in a flash I grabbed his neck and choked him hard. He struggled a bit and went limp in just a few minutes.

I drove off towards Roxas Boulevard and turned right into the road leading to the newly built President Diosdado Macapagal Avenue where while cruising I opened the passenger door and pushed his lifeless body out into the ditch on the side of the highway and went for a candle-lit dinner in Greenbelt, Makati with my new girlfriend.

His death was just another nasty thing done by a nasty dude with a nasty mind.

No sweat.

Change the World

I bumped into an old classmate of mine from high school one rainy August Monday while walking along Morayta Avenue just in front of the Far Eastern University Campus at the University Belt in Manila.

"Hey, it's you! How are you? How's life?" said he.

"Er, aah, I'm Ok and you?" I answered.

"Small world, huh?!"

"Yeah, so wazzup?"

After the familiar questions and answers when you suddenly bump into some old acquaintances we decided to have our snacks at A&W and update each other with our lives. He had a Burger and Coke while I had fries and Root Beer. We talked about the good old days and what we have become, our plans for the future, our classmates, movies, and girlfriends- every topic that comes to mind.

I learned that he's now connected with a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) and works as a consultant doing some charity works with children and out-of-school youths in one of their centers in the slums of Tondo district at the heart of Manila.

He invited me to join him on my free time and see for myself the conditions of our poor countrymen.

To make the long story short, I visited him on the site and was horribly appalled at the poverty that I have witnessed.

Most of the children who are at the center are walking barefooted, naked from the waist up, some have no teeth and many were terribly emaciated. They look rather old for their age. In a low voice, my former classmate informed me that majority of children no longer goes to school and instead help their parents in collecting whatever things that they could salvage and sell to some Chinese Junk Yard Owner from the horrible Garbage site known as the Smokey Mountain.

So, I decided to give my time to my fellowmen and eventually went with my classmate on his numerous visits to the shanties that was home to the most impoverished people of Tondo and their I saw and experienced first hand the things that I thought were just the product of propaganda by some enterprising activists on this side of the world. Things that I only saw on TV or read in the papers but thought nothing of it until today. Their homes were mostly nothing but made of old corrugated GI sheets and old Boxes of Cigarettes probably salvage in the dumpsites.

Many are lucky if they could have three square meals a day. Everyday my classmate and I would walk through the narrow alleys that could only fit one person and the stench of the garbage and the murky Esteros* filling the morning air with a dedicated and determined look on our face to really make a huge difference in the world.

I was really amazed that he knows by heart all the names of the people living in that maze of shanties along the Pasig River. I admired him for his heart and dedication on serving his fellowmen. But I am not like him. And will never be.

I could not stand the sight of the children suffering especially Erning, afflicted with Polio since he was three years old and was limping around while going on with his daily activities. I was a witness to his daily suffering. He would be out of his Barung- barong* at five o'clock in the morning everyday without fail limping while trying to keep his balance on the narrow Bamboo Bridge while fetching a gallon of water. I watched him do his thing from afar and decided that I have to do something to help him.

Determined and genuinely affected, in my mind I figured and resolved that I want to help the boy in any way- by the only way that I know of...

On one particular cold August morning, I saw him again laboring his way trying to cross the makeshift bridge; I decided that this would be the day.

It rained hard the night before and the river was swollen with murky water and so was the Estero.

I met him in the middle of the Bamboo Bridge.

He looked at me.

Our eyes met.

The next thing I remember was my right foot holding him down the dirty water as his limp frame struggled in vain...

Mountain- Err

“Ain’t no mountain high enough?”

The song by Diana Ross and the Supremes keeps on playing inside my head as our group of ten mountaineers snaked our way into the narrow and steep cliffs of Mt. Makiling amid strong winds and pouring rains.

The local radio station announced this morning that there is a tropical storm headed our way. In fact, it was already typhoon signal no. 1 when we left our boarding house in UPLB. We decided to push through with our mountain expedition despite the announcements of the approaching typhoon because we thought it was cool and nobody in our group has done hiking in this kind of weather before.

So with much pride and bravado as well as youthful fire and enthusiasm we continued walking and climbing through a narrow trail unmindful of the rain and the gusty wind.

“Ain’t no mountain high enough. “

We were already deep inside the forest when we realized that this was no ordinary tropical depression. In fact many of us now realized that it has the making of a super typhoon. It is just 10 o’clock in the morning and yet it was already very dark. Despite having our Coleman flashlight on, visibility was poor at five meters. The wind was strong and howling while the temperature was already freezing when the group decided to pitch tent at a nearby embankment.

The group was in a huge unexpected dilemma when some of the people in our group wanted to turn back and head for the lowlands. But the more seasoned mountaineers pointed out that since we were looking for adventure when we decided to become mountaineers then it is but logical to endure what nature has to offer us in search of that elusive glory that befits wanderlusts like us and by quoting that old cliché -" to separate the men from the boys" we prevailed on the “cowards” to stay and pass the night away right in the heart of the dense forest of Mt. Makiling.

It was a very dark and stormy night. The wind and rain continued without let up. As I tried to light a cigarette to ease the numbness brought out by cold and counter hypothermia, a thunder-like explosion caught us by surprise!

Suddenly, I felt being swept away by a very strong force of nature.

A flashflood!

Our worst nightmare has materialized as I struggled to regain my bearing amid the very strong pull of the rampaging body of water, I saw several of my buddies being carried away by the strong current downstream. I was about to pass out when I saw Samuel, my roommate in the dorm reaching out for me. After a short struggle he managed to grab my hand and pulled me off to safety behind the trunk of a very big Lauan tree.

As we were struggling to keep our balance and keep up our positions, that particular thought and urge again suddenly entered my mind and in a flash I lounged at him with all my might with my right fist landing a solid right cross to his temple. A look of disbelief flashed into his face as he fell and was eventually pulled down, carried away and swallowed by the rampaging murky river.

Another day has passed before a military rescue team reached us. Of the ten mountaineers, only 3 of us survive the ordeal.

The bodies of my mountaineering buddies including Samuel were found floating several kilometers away at the mouth of the river downstream. I knew right there and then that my secret will remain a secret until...

TIBAK

Then I met Nora…

We were both Communication Arts freshmen at the University of the Philippines- Los Banos (UPLB) when I first saw her at one of those teach-ins being conducted by leftist and radical students. She was one of the speakers and I was quite impressed not only of her knowledge on the current political issues but also of her beauty and cool demeanor.

She was with the League of Filipino Students (LFS) while I am a Barbarian! No pun intended though, that’s what they call students who does not belong to any organization in the State College.

After much prodding on my part, we were finally by a mutual associate and instantly became good friends. From then on I was a regular fixture at any LFS activity whether it is rallies and demonstrations in the urban jungle or in the teach-ins in the leftist activists‘“safehouse”. Don’t get me wrong though, for to tell you frankly I was there not because I believed in what they were fighting for but more so because of Nora, the object of my affection. Truth be told, I hate communists for I know that they were no different from the present rulers of the country and were just making noise for their own gain and end.

And then it happened. ..

It was May 1, Labor Day...

We were part of the huge student delegation from UPLB. We were doing the usual activists’ stuff--marching from C.M. Recto Avenue towards Mendiola Bridge in the University Belt in downtown Manila chanting “Makibaka!” and “Down with US Imperialism!”--

-- When suddenly the anti-riot policemen in front of us started bombarding us with water cannons and tear gas canisters. Then there were gunshots in the air that broke the boisterous chanting punctuated by the familiar sounds of pillboxes and Molotov cocktails exploding all around!

All hell broke loose!

People started scampering in different directions. Amid the ensuing confusion and commotion, I managed to get hold of Nora and we started running side by side towards Espana Boulevard. From there we hailed a cab to take us to Sta. Mesa to elude our pursuers.

As we were both soaked by the water from the fire trucks we decided to checked-in at a nearby motel to change only to find out that except for our wallets, we lost all of our belongings in the battle with the riot police.

It was already 9:30 p.m. and since both of us were dead-tired and weary after a long hard day in the streets, we decided to spend the night at the motel. As we lay naked in that room, I smothered her with the pillow and she never had an iota of a chance. I plucked three pubic hairs from her and put it into my wallet to add to my collections. I then pushed myself unto her cold body until I climaxed inside her. I pulled myself up, took a shower and got dressed. Afterwards, I got hold of the towel and wiped the chairs, knobs, glasses, etc. to erase whatever traces of my fingerprints that the police might find in that cheap smoky room.

After an hour of aimless wandering in the mall, I soon found myself aboard a bus bound for Los Banos wondering how I managed to slip out of the hotel unnoticed.

The next day, news spread like wildfire that the young activist, Nora was found dead inside the motel apparently raped before being killed. The left blamed the police for her death and vowed to retaliate to avenge the death of one of their comrades in the hands of the fascists military.

I attended her funeral and spoke about her courage and conviction to uplift the life of her countrymen. The left lionized her as being a true heroine of the people and honored her by naming one of their units after her years later.

As for me, I just went on with my studies as if nothing happened. I was not really surprised that there was not a tinge of guilt in my system on what I have done. Instead it was a sense of pride on what I considered as an achievement.

The last part of the school year proved uneventful until...

Baptism of Fire

So, I set my sights on Diana, the muse of our class.

Everything began with a simple smile and we ended up as sweethearts two weeks later.

After a month we were lovers.

A year and a half later she’s dead and to never be heard of again.

Oh who can forget that sweet little thing!

We shared so many happy memories together but the urge and the thrill of finally fulfilling my long cherished dream of having my first human victim is greater than the love that I felt for her then.

As the saying goes, you can’t forget your first time! I can still vividly remember the last night that we were together. It was a very serene and moonlit night in Lake Caliraya and we were onboard a boat that we rented for a few hundred bucks. We were making love under the moonlight while in the middle of the lake when the thought of finally fulfilling my long cherished dream of killing somebody flashed like a lightning into my mind.

Right there and then I strangled and suffocated her with her own shirt and after a brief struggle, she’s gone and it was so easy. I can’t believe the feeling that crept into me moments later for it was not of remorse but of triumph.

Afterwards, I plucked three of her pubic hairs and put it inside my wallet for posterity and I then tied a rope on her ankles, put on my Scuba gears and dragged her to the bottom of the lake that will serve as her final resting place.

Years later I would return to that lake to offer my prayers for her happiness wherever she might be.

But that’s getting ahead of the story...

My first concern was to cover my tracks so that no one will suspect me nor link me to her disappearance.

First, I need to have a very good alibi and a foolproof plan of what to tell our friends and families about where I've been and why I don’t know the whereabouts of my girlfriend.

I spent hours in front of the mirror rehearsing the things that I’m going to say and studying the right facial expressions that I’m going to use that will convince them of my innocence.

I even volunteered to undergo a lie-detector test at the NBI but they all agreed that it was not necessary having been convinced of my innocence and credible acting as the distraught boyfriend.

For years I have maintained my good relationships with Diana’s family and even I was actually amazed at myself at how I managed to do that.

I tell you my acting was so damn good and convincing that I could have given Robert De Niro a run for his money!

I think most of us are born actors.

Looking Back...

Hmmm.... they say that serial killers are made not born.

Well, here I am proving that it's the other way around.

You may not agree with me but it’s true.

As far as I can remember and that was a very long time ago, there’s always this weird and strange obsession to kill and kill and kill!

My first victim was our neighbor's pet dog- “Hunter” back when I was in the third grade.
It took me several days of planning until the day when I fed him a piece of meat I got from my mother's refrigerator laced with 2-4- D, a kind of poison used by rice farmers wherein I have access being the only son of the owner of the only store which deals in agriculture in our town and presto I got my first victim at age 9!

From then on I became the scourge of all the animals in our town. Whether it is a stray dog in the streets or a cat lazily napping on a neighbor’s porch or a friend’s exotic python, I got them all. It gave me the vile satisfaction seeing the owners of my "victims" perplexed and at a loss on what happened to their pets.

Not being caught, gave me the courage to become bolder and bolder until the time when I got tired of killing mere pets. This was around the time when I was in already in the 3rd year of high school where I promised myself that I have to kill a human being as a rite of passage to adulthood and that is on or before my graduation day from high school...