The Fibbers' Page

I’d always known that I should never interfere in the affairs of humans, but I never listen. This week, I am secretly hiding in a small farming plateau. This is where Leron lives. Every day at sun break, before Leron attends to his papaya and coconut farm, he helps his neighbors by giving away sackful of dry grasses to those who need to feed their milking cows. Before noon, he is at the town market deliver ing his produce to his long-time patrons. One windy day, a golden flying pumpkin from the progressive city of the south arrived carrying a lady who walked gracefully as a cat, a dog with furs pigmented as corns’ hair and seven men dressed in dark robes who ducked their heads as they stepped out of the craft. The men walked around town interested in business particularly with Dita, the town’s healer. Meanwhile, the lady and the dog seemed to be an inseparable pair. She walked around town gaily looking at the crafts and wares peddled on the busy narrow streets. “Ayyy Dios ko ...

It was Monday. Miss Patterson, the fourth grade English teacher, asked her students to write an analysis of Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky poem that she had distributed. The turnip-faced student with swirling caramel locks grinned from behind a narrow-eyed Hiroshi.  The boy  tilted forward, whispering, “Hey chopstick, does that taste good?” Hiro understood that his classmate was referring to his left middle-finger that he absent-mindedly nibbled as he worked on his seatwork.  A trio of boys nearby who heard what was said chortled. Two girls to the right also joined with a giggle. Miss Patterson caught wind of the commotion. “Greg, anything funny you'd like to share with the rest of the class?” she asked with a raised brow, and a sigh. “No, ma'am. Already shared it. Thank you.” The boy, called Greg, leaned back on his chair with one last wicked look at Hiro. After school, Hiroshi walked out by himself, slouching with his hands rubbing the back of his elbows. His ...