She blew the other opening of the can so that all the liquid will come out. She blew it mightily that seconds later the white- sticky, sweet, cream was all over her hair, her face, her arms, and on her blouse. She cursed and looked for a clean rug to clean the mess. Her hair was bloody sticky and she’s afraid someone will see how miserable she is. She looked around, nobody’s looking at her. She can feel the sticky liquid furiously clinging on every strands of her bloody miserable hair. Fuck! Her legs were cramping. She’s been standing on that little place for more than an hour. Her limbs were sore and her throat was throbbing painfully. She has to finish what she’s doing. Mayonnaise, cream, condensed milk, fruit cocktail, macaroni, dried raisins, cheese, nata de coco, mix them all and this would be over. But it’s easier said than done. The fruit cocktail is quite large and she has to do the mixing twice. And there’s the macaroni. After it has been boiled to al dente she has to use a big spoon (yes, large spoon literally) to scoop them from the casserole. Bloody strainer! Someone stole it the day before Christmas eve. Grrrrr! After draining the macaroni using her bare hands she put in a clean container and start pouring all the necessary ingredients. She doesn’t want to make something that’s just very ordinary. So, after mixing all the ingredients she decided to put some decoration on top of the finished product. And she did the same until to the very last mixing. And now she’s quite proud she just finished preparing the all time fave Macaroni and Fruit Salads. Bloody, bloody, bloody Salads!

And then she felt sooo sticky sweet. She wanted to take a bath but the painful throbbing on her throat escalated up to her head. She felt feverish she wanted to lie down and die for a while (lol). The others were going to church. She hasn’t attended any morning masses for the past 2 years and she has no plan to attend any (bless her friggin’ soul if she has one). She just lie there for a while. Eyes half close and mind started to ruminate. She wanted to shut down any thoughts that would just make her lonely or depress but she can’t help it. Some were already sending their greetings but she has no plan to greet anyone. She just wanted to lie and maybe to fall asleep until all the merry-making around would be over. And then she sat up and decided to wash her friggin’ face. She felt like a dirty gum-frog. She can feel tiny red ants all over her bloody face. She’s hungry but she suppressed it because she doesn’t want to gain another bloody pounds that would make her look like an “inasal” ready to be feasted by those scrutinizing fucktard eyes. But then she should eat or else she would become one of those ugly sickly anorexic models with friggin’ bones clinging on their skinny alien-like bodies.

She had slept for a while. She received personal greetings from a few important people. Those only who she felt worthy to be replied or to be greeted are the ones she texted. She’s happily texting someone when a sudden commotion and shout of panic interrupted her flow of thoughts. Almost everybody in the neighborhood was in panic. She heard there was a bloody fire two houses away. As if due to the unexpected twist she just found herself outside their house looking at her neighbors in panic, shouting, running, and the children were crying. She just stood there. She really didn’t know what to do. She didn’t see any fire but her neighbor’s reactions were enough to validate that there is indeed a fire. She waited for a while but she didn’t see any smoke. Bloody hell! She just noticed that her feet and arms were trembling. She can’t move. What the fuck! And then she saw a few men running and overheard that the fire has been extinguished (too fast huh!). It seemed like she lost all her strength. She stumbled back to their house with heart beating furiously.

The very first thing she saw was the half-finished tequila. She got a piece of lemon, sliced it into two and mashed them with salt. She drank one shot and it seemed like her heart leaped but the heat of the alcohol warmed up her throat and it slid down into her stomach. She can feel the sweet but tartaric acid of the lemon graciously mating with the tangy, sharp-flavored tequila. They blended smoothly while they were romantically and slowly gliding from her throat down to her esophagus. And when they decided to make out on her stomach she felt an explosion of everything sweet, bitter, sour, and then a feeling of relief and warm. And then she heard bizarre explosions and colorful bloody lights were roaming everywhere. The sky looked like a rainbow of light colors. Fuck! It’s Christmas!!!