Bad, bad child

Believe it or not, I was a bad child. Of evil proportions.

In kindergarten, I stabbed a girl with a blunt pencil. Her arm bled, and she cried hysterically. Arianne Taborete was asking me for help because she didn't know how to draw a face. I said, "Let me finish mine first; I'll get back to you." But she was so insistent. She was tugging my right arm, effectively distorting the image I was sketching on paper. I got really mad I gripped the no. 2 Mongol pencil and embedded it straight to her brachioradialis.  She has never bothered me since.

During summer vacations, my cousins and I would play at my Lola's house. The garden was wide, lavished with swings, see-saws, and the slide. Many times Kring and I would spend the afternoons there. One day, out of a childish whim, I decided to have the slide all to myself. Instead of climbing up through the ladder (which was how it should be done, really), I decided to climb through the slopey part of the slide itself—that part where the actual sliding was done. I don't know why I did that, but it sure did feel more satisfying.

Along came Kring who was just behind me, climbing in the same way that I was doing it. I told her sternly, "Get off the slide," just as I was about to each the peak. She didn't back off. So I kicked her, until she fell off, tumbling down to my grandmother's newly-mowed bermuda grass. Her eyes were all white. She was cold and clammy. And something medical had to be done to her. Hours later, when Kring was a whole lot better, Mama Titin (my aunt and Kring's mother, but that's how we used to call her) asked what happened.

With a stern look, I said, "It's all Kring's fault," concocting this web of lies that sounded like it was the truth. I was so convincing I even convinced my cousin Kring, who simply said, "Yes, Lance's right."

These things—and many more—I recalled as I answered Katrina Magallanes' how-well-do-you-know-me quiz in Facebook. I'm not a big fan of Facebook precisely because of these quizzes (I mean, do I really have to know how many Zombies you've killed?), but this was Katrina. I've known her since we were eight. So I answered it.

And among the questions there was:



Let me tell you that the answer isn't A.

This started a rather interesting thread of comments from old friends.

John Mark Sunga wrote, "Talaga? Pinutol mo buhok ni Lance n'ung Grade 2? Hahaha."

Vanessa Gumban wrote, "KAT! I thought you stabbed Lance's hand with a pencil? Or was that someone else?" Well, that someone else is me.

To these Katrina replied, "Oo, I cut Lance's hair during Grade 2 kasi he was teasing me kay Romeo Nataya [one of our classmates.] I can never forget that kasi pinatawag ako ni Teacher Celie, and I also cried n'ung pinagalitan niya ako."

Believe it or not, I was a bad child. And all it took was Katrina's pair scissors to mellow me down. It's one thing to tease someone. It's another to actually cut someone's strand of hair. I felt really bad and defeated, but Kat knew her way. Well, on hindsight, it makes me feel better that she did have her share of crying, too.