THE REAL APHRODISIAC by Karren Mae G. Javines
"Good morning Parker", she always says while welcoming light through our Venetian blinds. I will grunt a little while feeling the sun’s rays kiss my cheeks, ever so gentle yet forcefully awakening. And her smile will start me up like a tinkling bell against my ears.
Still bit groggy, I will force my feet to follow her to the kitchen where I could savour the smell of what she is cooking. She will prepare my breakfast which consits of the best dishes ever known: fried chicken, caldereta, and sometimes, Adobong Baboy. They are aphrodisiacs, really.
After having our fill of her terrific sunrise-cuisine, we will spend the rest of the morning cuddling and playfully teasing each other. She’ll brush my hair with her soft fingertips as I lovingly stare at her dazzling grey eyes. Then I will tickle her with my nose. The room will be filled with our naughty giggles.
In the afternoon, I’ll be awakened as she gently lays my head from her lap to the couch. And the lovemaking will start again. We will play, this time at the park, a little hide-and-seek game. I will hide behind santan bushes, coconut trees, even under little straw huts. She will be thrilled and will laugh out affectionately when she sees me peek from my hiding place and then she will shout, “Bang, My turn to hide!”
I could search forever so long as this game won’t end.
We will be coming home late, tired from our afternoon escapades. She will cook dinner and I will be waiting in the living room either lying on the couch or staring at her back, admiring its gracefulness as she perform he draft. The way her hips dance is a true aphrodisiac, really. She is the love of my life and we are inseparable.
At eight o’clock, a car rolls in the driveway and then the doorbell rings. She will wash her hands hurriedly and take her apron off. Then I will feel the continuous lurching in my stomach, like I will be eaten whole by my own guts. Glowing, she will run towards the sounding door and opens it.
With heated anger building inside me, I will shout at the man that entered our house as she bathes him with sweet, sweet, kisses I never had.
And looking down at me, he will shout back.
“Parker, stay! Roll over. Play dead.”
it took me a while, ay mali. Hindi ko agarang nakuha ang essensya ng storyang ito. aminado akong slow ako. kung me mga nakasulat mang mali dyan ay kinopya ko lang siya word by word. naaliw ako at sa huli ko lang nakuha ang ibig sabihin ng kwento. at ng nalaan ko ay natutunan kong magustuhan ang istoryang ito. isa kasi akong taong mahilig magbasa ng mga likha na upukaw sa imahinasyon at hindi tipikal. kung saan ang mga manunulat ay naglalaro ng gma salita. tinignan ko ng staffer profile at nakita ko ang litrato ng may akda, katabi nito ay ang description sa kanya. ito ang nakasulat
"Assertive, bubbly, and has wierd mood swings. Local alternative music aficionado whose recenthaircut made her hairstyle liable for damages. She tells stories even if nobody wants to hear them. An invaluable CJ asset."
artistik ang pag kuha ng mga litrato ng naturang mga istap ng nasabing dyornal. ngunit ating ipokus ang atensyon sa kanya. siya ay nakahiga sa may damuhan, kita lang ang halos itaas na kalahating bahagi ng katawan. nakatingin sa mga damo na pang napoposes o nag iilusyo na a basta. yun na yun. wakekeke
(pahabol sulat: kakaibam ang aking naikwento ay ingles na istorya ngunit ako ay umakda sa Filipino. isa na talagang akong eksentrikong nilalang)
(pahabol sulat ulit: yung sanaysay mahaba, baka sa susunod na akda ko na lang.)
dahil sa madami nag search sa google ng kanyang picture at madami ang search tungkol sa pagkatao nya ay sinbukan ko din isearch. sa google main ay d ko nakita, pero ng pindutin ko ang litrato porsyon nya nakita ko gna ang tinutukoy kong picture at me meron pala sang blogspot. gagawin kong link ang litrato nya.
