Procopio sluggishly opens an email that has just entered his Inbox on a deadening Friday afternoon. An invitation for a small office Christmas party singing contest burst into his screen but nevertheless it did not excite him a bit.
“BO…ring,” says Procopio to himself as he sees a mosaic made up of various internet-downloaded Christmas-related photos mixed up against a black background entitled “Christmas in Our Hearts”. Several details about the party are written below the invitation but Procopio shows no interest in reading them. He switches his screen to a sixty-page document containing a number of lewd stories about sex encounters. His eyes grow big and refuse to blink as he skims through the pages to find the words “Ooooh” and “Aaaah”. With a big smile on his face, he starts to read the moment he finds a group of words that he is eagerly searching for. He is beginning to feel a bit of pleasure inside him when all of a sudden;
“Choco!” shouts Tin.
Procopio quickly hits Alt + Tab and unknowingly switches back to the email invitation about the small office Christmas party singing contest. He swivels around and sees Tin holding a giant red Christmas ball in her hand.
“I didn’t know you’re SOOO interested in that,” says Tin teasingly as she points out the email invitation flashing in Procopio’s computer screen.
“What’s up with the ball?” asks Procopio as he swipes the red Christmas ball off Tin’s hand and looks at his reflection on the side of the ball.
“We’re just dressin’ up our cubes ‘cause we’re not like you, Uncle Scrooge,” says Tin while Procopio is dumbly putting the ball in his mouth and trying to get lain on his belly above his table mimicking a roasted suckling pig.
Tin is about to kick Procopio’s ass when Sands comes in from behind.
“Hey guys! Let’s join the contest! I’ll be the lead singer. Tin, you’ll be the backup vocals,” says Sands deliriously.
“No! I’ll take the lead. You’ll be the backup!” answers Tin.
“No! I’ll take the lead. You’ll be the backup!” answers Sands.
“No! I’ll take the lead. You’ll be the backup!” answers Tin.
“No! I’ll take the lead…because you’re fat!” answers Sands.
The office lights went off for half a second and sparks of electricity flicker between the eyes of the two girls while they intensely look at each other.
“SHUT UP!” screams the two girls even before Procopio finishes what he is about to say.
Tension continues to build up between the two girls as Procopio’s cubicle starts to shake a bit. The pen holder and miniature toys above Procopio’s desk are starting to drift because of the arising earthquake caused by the two girls when the desk clock at the edge of the table strikes at six o’clock.
“Party Time!” says the two girls in chorus and the trembling immediately stops.
During the night, Procopio is having a difficult time sleeping. The bed screeches frequently as he tumbles himself a lot trying to get a good position. He quits after two hours of doing nonsense flipping and decides to snatch his iPod. Then he spends about an hour or so listening to various music genres and sending himself to a sort of trance when he momentarily hits an unplugged version of a popular song;
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”
“Jack Frost nipping at your nose…”
He barely falls down as he blindly reaches for his cell phone sitting on the desk by the side of his bed. Half asleep and half awake, he unknowingly and bizarrely types a message. Procopio instantly falls asleep at the moment he presses
Water splatters as a young grade school boy steps on a small pool of water on the side of the road as he hastily run on a drizzling afternoon. He hurriedly zigzags his way into a busy street as he firmly holds his black leather bag over his head. A few minutes later, he passes by an old rusty gate with a small opening enough for him to squeeze in. Inside the lot is an old tiny dwelling enshrouded with tall centenarian trees and leafy shrubs.
The same piano key is repeatedly hit in three consecutive successions as the boy slowly walks towards the side of the house cautious not to be noticed by anyone. At his pace, the deafening silence is broken only by the drizzle spattering on the roof and piano key reverberating around the house. A light squeak is heard as the boy inches his way towards a shadowy glass window.
From the boy’s vantage point, he sees inside the house the backs of another grade school boy and a grade school girl the same age as he is seated on small chairs by the side of a large majestic old black piano. Hitting the same piano key repeatedly in three consecutive successions is an old woman in her sixties wearing a large pair of spectacles. The boy breathes deeply and then makes a strange howling sound unexpectedly;
The old woman stops immediately and then gently exclaims;
“Get inside, Procopio.”
Procopio walks slowly inside the house towards the side of the piano and sees the two other children sticking their tongue out to him. He returns by making an unusually peculiar face as he sits on the empty chair beside the grade school girl.
“May I know why you are late?” asks the old woman to Procopio.
While Procopio earnestly finds a witty answer to say, the girl seated on his left quickly outcries;
“Because he’s on the (school) terrace spitting on the people walking (below).”
The old woman is surprised to hear the girl’s answer.
“Shut up,” says the Procopio to the girl while he raises his right fist.
The old woman asks Procopio again;
“Why were you doing that? Don’t you know it’s bad to spit on people?”
Procopio guiltily answers back;
“It wasn’t me! It was the rain!”
The other grade school boy bursts into laughter hearing Procopio’s funny answer.
The old woman spends the next two hours teaching the three children advanced lessons on music using her old piano. There are a lot of moments when everyone would break into laughter because of Procopio’s funny antics and playful remarks. It surely is a fun afternoon for them.
Procopio hails from a middle class family living in one of the major cities in the metro. As his parents are musically-inclined, it is mandatory for him and his two little sisters to be enrolled in musical classes as an extracurricular activity. He has spent his free time during grade school learning how to read musical compositions and as well as how to play the piano. In high school, he learns playing the guitar under the guidance of his high school music teacher and from his close friends in the Glee club. In college, he develops his love for music by learning how to use the turntable and various musical computer softwares.
Chug, chug, chug.
A sprinkle of gleaming light passes through a small opening in the front of what it seems is a horse-drawn carriage of some sort.
“Wake up, Boss,” says the man who appears to be controlling the wobbly carriage from inside.
This carriage is nothing but a pitiful contraption made out of old wood panels and chips bound together by ropes made from dried vines. Dust covers its tops, sand covers its body and mud covers its wheels. It is big enough to carry a few people without breaking itself into pieces but small enough to be pulled by a farm horse.
From the small horizontal opening in front of the carriage, the man controlling the carriage sees the infamous Gregory the Great of the Far North and the Army of Ten Thousand standing side by side across the entire beach. Gregory the Great of the Far North and the Army of Ten Thousand is notorious for launching successful massive campaigns from the Far North up to the Middle Lands using their sheer strength in numbers. The flaming spears that the soldiers are carrying are more than enough to ambush a mid-size kingdom and burn it down to the ground. Their combat strategies are the most advanced in this era. Their group sword-fighting skills cannot be matched even by the greatest swordsmen of the Far East.
As the carriage halts to a full stop, Gregory the Great of the Far North and the Army of Ten Thousand stand dumbfounded by its ridiculous looks. Obviously, this is not what they have in mind to fight with when they intended a monumental Battle of Sanuva Beach.
Suddenly, the carriage’s rear falls down hard on the beach. Dust and sand envelopes the entire carriage to the astonishment of the rigid soldiers. A brown leather cowboy boots emerges from the cloud and lands softly on the fallen carriage’s rear.
The Valiant Cowboy walks slowly right in front of the hefty Gregory the Great as the ruler’s lieutenant on his right whispers something to him. Tension builds up as the continued silence surrounds the whole beach. The soldiers hold their weapons tighter while their feet boroughs deeper into the sand signaling their readiness to fight any second.
Without any warning, the Valiant Cowboy throws up his cowboy hat onto the air.
And then he raps straight on Gregory the Great’s face;
“From the Far North, comes this big Fatso,
Only to be beaten by this handsome loco.
I say, you just surrender and go back to yo’ mama,
Before I crush you down like a Black Mamba!”
In all of Gregory the Great’s might he answers back;
“Go back to your cave, you little brat.
Eat, stink and die like a filthy rat.
Beggars like you are no match for me,
The end of my sword is the last thing you’ll see.”
A great uproar erupts from the Army of Ten Thousand. They are not expecting this kind of “battle” but they are delighted by the striking wit of their leader.
The Valiant Cowboy smirks a little and then raps again;
“How will you beat me with all your body fats?
I’ll just outrun you until your crying stops.
With me are the best fighters from the four corners of the planet,
Are we gonna rap forever? I say, let’s go down with it!”
Gregory the Great laughs hard for a second and then stares at the cowboy with his piercing eyes throwing;
“For God’s sake, you brought three kids and a driver.
Go back to your King; tell him I need someone better.
Behind me is the Army of Ten Thousand ready to kill,
Another thing, tell your King to write his last will!”
The Army of Ten Thousand breaks into a huge laughter for a couple of minutes.
Then a gust of warm wind besieges the ranks of the Army of Ten Thousand.
The soldier’s laughter stops. Another gust of wind passes again, only this time, ten times stronger.
On the third wave, the entire army covers their eyes as the wind carries with it insurmountable force and innumerous amount of sand. Gregory the Great and his lieutenant are forced to back up and take cover behind some soldiers. As they are backing up, they can’t help but notice a small silhouette standing behind the cloud of sand.
A pair of raging eyes manifests behind the sandstorm. Its fiery stare shows the apparent disgust from the words thrown by Gregory the Great a while ago. Interestingly, this pair of bright eyes belongs to a little girl a few steps on the right rear of the Valiant Cowboy. Her little body discharges the burning wind towards the Army of Ten Thousand. As the little girl’s fury grows stronger, the wind turns hotter and blows even harder. The Army of Ten Thousand is pushed back more and more as they struggle to keep sight of what is going on.
The scorching wind stops abruptly and the cloud of sand settles down slowly. The little girl has now transformed into an Amazonian warrior to the horror of the Army of Ten Thousand.
A lightning strikes a Sycamore tree a few meters away on the shore.
Everyone is surprised as the clear sky does not hold any dark clouds. Fear wraps the Army of Ten Thousand as they see multiple tiny sparks of light shooting out of the body of a little boy a few steps on the right of the Amazonian. From the looks of it, this boy is the uncanny source of the lightning.
In a split second, he turns into a man in his thirties wearing a stylish gray suit. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his left pocket and slowly puts one cigarette between his lips. While his right hand is eagerly searching for a lighter, the end of the cigarette in his mouth flickers unexpectedly. He gives an annoyed stare at the Amazonian as he puffs a few smoke.
Some of the soldiers at the back of the battalion are starting to squander away terrified as they are not prepared to encounter such opponents of a rare kind, age and fashion sense. The Valiant Cowboy delights in this sight and poses a mocking smile. He then turns towards his left and looks at a fat kid eating a large chunk of bread.
The fat kid hurriedly stuffs the chunk of bread in his mouth and proceeds to make a fighting stance. His eyebrows meet robustly as he concentrates on transforming himself, too. The ground starts to tremble. More and more soldiers are running away fearing for their lives.
The fat kid is shocked. He continues his concentration.
Nothing happens again.
The frightened soldiers at the back are now slowly returning. The hilarious sight of the struggling fat kid brings back their confidence and fearlessness.
“Charge!” cries Gregory the Great.
In an instant, the Army of Ten Thousand rushes to the Valiant Cowboy’s group. The group stands firm and unshaken.
The fat kid turns into a dark-skinned Allied Forces soldier from the Desert Storm. He points his Gatling gun towards the raging Army of Ten Thousand. As he was about to squeeze the trigger, a bazooka shoots off a few meters from his back sending several soldiers flying off the ground.
The Valiant Cowboy group looks behind them and sees their driver carrying a bazooka on his right shoulder. On his side sits a large army bag full of modern-age weapons and ammunitions.
The Allied Forces soldier attacks on the left using his Gatling gun.
The Amazonian burns the middle in a giant wild fire tornado.
The Man in the Gray Suit electrifies the soldiers on the right.
The Driver blasts his weapons on the soldiers at the back.
The Valiant Cowboy looks at his watch.
More and more soldiers are dropping and piling on the shores of Sanuva Beach as the clear mismatch in prowess favors the Valiant Cowboy group. In a couple of minutes, the entire Army of Ten Thousand lays flat on the ground devastated by the group’s supremacy.
Gregory the Great stands astonished by the turn of events. He cannot even move a finger.
The Valiant Cowboy walks slowly in front of Gregory the Great and carefully draws a Samurai sword from his back. He is about to chop the infamous ruler’s head when he says;
“I’m a cowboy! What the hell am I doing with a Samurai sword?”
The Valiant Cowboy pauses.
The Valiant Cowboy hears a woman calling from a distance.
The Valiant Cowboy hears the familiar voice again.
All of a sudden, the entire scene from the Battle of Sanuva Beach turns into dull rows of gray office cubicles filled with desktop computers, tons of papers and busy white-collar workers.