Q: WTF?

A: Here is early take of a scene i wrote a long time ago in a galaxy far far away; i'd say it's about Take 5:

Martin said once, when stabbed by ice pick, there would be no immediate visible bloodstains. I didn’t believe him, but he insists. He’s seen it. The size and shape of the steel would gun for the inside organs but puncture as little flesh as possible, making the wound small so the blood liberated from the vessels would clot inside, leaving for the victim a hemorrhage and slow death.

Toots tried imagine the last year’s riot, people dropping like mangoes during summer from trees, the dull thuds. They’d look like they’d been punched out with fists, not wounded by blade, only to be dragged away later as dead weight.

He thought of the perps shooting shabu and gin the morning after, nearing delirium, while barangay cleaning crews and sleep-deprived residents of his neighborhood scrubbed blood from the pavement. These images and imagined stabbing sensations were never so sharply defined in Toots’ mind until the moment he knew he could be in the receiving end of something sharp, rusty, and real. The stories of criminal activity and urban violence people told over beer and highly animated hand gestures never really mattered before, the way a man being tortured in a war movie in hi-def doesn’t strike nerves anymore.

Martin said once: a .45 is fifty times larger than life, in real life.

here is a later take of same scene (excerpt pala), mga Take 24:

Anyhu, Ika ni Martini: pag nasaksak ng icepick, walang immediate visible bloodstains.

Siyempre dehins ako naniwala, but he insists. Nakita daw niya, with his “own two fucking eyes.” Sabi: “The size and shape of the steel would gun for the inside organs but puncture as little flesh as possible, making the wound small so the blood liberated from the vessels would clot inside, leaving for the victim a hemorrhage and slow death.”

Sinubukang isipin ni Toots yung mga riot nung nakaraang taon: people dropping like mangoes during summer from trees, the dull thuds. Para lang silang mga nasapak nang malufet, yun pala ay mamamatay na kasi nasaksak ng miyembro ng organisasyon ng disgruntled urban youth.

Naisip ni Toots: Putangina siguro yung mga yun, malamang nagshabu’t nag-gin lang sila kinabukasan, nagpapakawasak habang nakikikuskos ako ng kalye para alisin yung manstya ng dugo sa harap ng bahay. Dati, gusto ni Toots maging gangstah. Exciting, barilan, saksakan, yoh mama. These days, this minute, it’s slowly shifting, his opinion. These images, his imaginings of stabbing sensations, they were never so sharply defined in Toots’ mind until the moment he woke to the possibility of being in the receiving end of something sharp, rusty, and real—i.e., ngayon lang niya naisip na oo nga, masakit nga, malamang. Ang mga posebilidad nga naman. Yang mga kwento ng crimen at karahasan na yan, mga bala para sa kwentuhang lasheng, they never really mattered to Toots before like the way a torture scene in a hi-def war movie doesn’t hit any nerves anymore. —i.e., wala lang— …dati. Now he shivers a little and doesn’t volunteer to break ice.

Anyhu, ika ni Martini: a .45 is fifty times larger than life, well, in real life.

¶ 2:51 PM