Wednesday, September 23, 2009
AN OILY DISASTER
“Why are you walking funny?” Karen asked me when I walked into the dental clinic that morning. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said as I slowly maneuvered myself on to the clinic’s dark brown faux-leather covered 30-year old box sofa, careful not to press together on the seat both my ass cheeks.
“Nothing?? Then why are you sitting in such a funny way?” she asked in a shrill tone that would definitely mean her schedule would be full for the day with patients waiting for a tooth to be pulled or have root canals. Things that dentists get excited with that makes me, an ordinary mortal, would find hard to fathom. “And are you wearing what I think you are wearing??”
“Yup,” I answered in a defeated manner for I cannot hide the obvious. “Adult diapers,” I added.
“Whyyyyyy??” utterly bemused, she asked.
“I’m leaking,” I said.
“Suki… bili ka na (you buy here),” Manang ushered me with a wave of her hand to the fresh fish she has on her stall. I could see piles of groupers (lapu-lapu), milk fish(bangus), cichlids (tilapia), skipjack tuna (tambakol) and red snapper (maya-maya). I began to pick on a grouper when I spotted another pile with a hastily written cardboard beside it. “Gindara” was written in black ink.
“Ay suki, that’s good and tasty fish. The kind they serve in high class restaurants,” she announced.
Since I have been buying from her for the past few years, I took her word for it and bought a kilo of the gindara. I figured, since I have been craving for the past few days for fired fish, I might as well try this one and see how it would turn out. I also passed by another stall and bought some veggies for an impromptu salad.
I could already imagine in my mind the scrumptious feast of fried gindara sprinkled with some soy sauce and sour lemon with a little dash of hot chili I will have for lunch.
“I woke up last night feeling “soggy”. I lifted my bed sheet and a big oily stain was beneath me. I thought I was bleeding. When I touched it… it stank of a fishy smell! Ugh!” I told Karen.
“They call it xenical fish. Makes people pooh oil after eating it,” she said.
“How was I supposed to know that? I cooked half a kilo of it for lunch yesterday and some more of it for dinner. Now I am leaking like busted oil pipe!” I moaned.
“Hahaha…,” she laughed.
“Thanks for laughing. Now I feel like a 200-pound baby in these diapers,” I sighed.