Our World Is Filled With Bitches/Fat Women

Arnel Francis is right, the world is filled with fat women "ready to don their angry scalpels on the flesh of hopefuls". I have nothing against fat women, or being fat. Apparently, it's the fat women who are bred like crazy dogs with rabdovirus filling their brains.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Dominican Hospital, Inc. a secondary hospital run by Dominican sisters (if I heard it right from my mother). I was wearing my stiffly starched cream white long sleeves, slim pants, and my favorite leather shoes. While on the cab, I made a short prayer, removed my earrings and put on perfume. Striding on the dusty pathway towards the hospital door, ongoing construction on the right wing look promising. Architecture's a bit amazing. I put on my gentle, manly smile. Glad to see fellow nurses. Everybody looked busy. The fat woman on the information was hooked to a paper over her ugly table. Another nurse walked to and fro between emergency department and pharmacy. As enfermeiras são ocupadas! Competitive!

The fat woman, a nurse, stood up. She's like an over sized teapot of my Grandmother. Her short, stubby legs, as short as her inappropriately wide-framed, extremely fat trunk. Her face gleaming with my most-hated dark aura, aura escura, unshaven eyebrows meeting together like a ciguapa's pubic hair above her nose bridge. Went face to face with her, I was about to lose my smile. I asked with all good manners I can suffice, "Ma'am, good morning! I'm Patrick. Where can I give my application?" The extremely short bitch (about 4 feet and 11 inches) looked up at me, with her eyes wide open like oranges, in her ill-mannered attitude, she replied, "Unya ra sir ha kay busy pa ko!"

(I asked friends how to translate her statement in English but they're too busy to fix my problem I supposed. Her statement might be in translated as: Can't you see?! I'm busy! or For a while Sir! I'm busy! Zahir suggested- I'm quite busy sir. Can I attend to you later? No. Too kind. So unlikely with the black pig's manner.)

She turned her back on me, I saw her dark nape like burnt caramel I made for my popcorn. I stared at her, my dear black pig, wondering how could my colleagues act like this. At work, hopeful nurses approaching me for any hiring, I basically talk to them warmly. A nun, frowning and very stiff like my starched shirt, interrupted my gaze towards my dear black bitch. The people here in Dominican Hospital are just plainly angry with the world. I went out, my resume at hand. Felt the nice, cool breeze outside and smoked.

A black pig with rabies. Sounds good. Fits her perfectly.