Manila Floods and Forgotten Promises: An Absurd Tale of a Vagabond, Watermelon Seeds, and Smiling Politicians

The rains in Manila did not fall — they collapsed, like a billion buckets overturned by a drunken god. Jeepneys bobbed like bathtub toys, tricycles spun like lost tops, and office workers scurried in their pressed clothes, darting into malls where the air-conditioning roared louder than the storm. From the safety of glass walls and fluorescent light, they watched the world blur into gray water, and then politely forgot it existed.

Far away yet still in the same city, a vagabond sat in a half-drowned basketball court. The court had once hosted sweaty neighborhood games, but now it served as an ark for one man, one dog, and a collapsing kingdom of cardboard boxes. His lips — cracked, swollen, mutinous from too many watermelon seeds — seemed to spell a wordless hymn. He smiled anyway, as though each seed carried the punchline to a cosmic joke only he could hear.

Company Training Day 2025 (Part 1): Gustavo’s Saturday of Coffee and Chaos

Saturday mornings are usually sacred for Gustavo — a time when his head rests peacefully on his pillow as anime streams on his phone. But on this particular Saturday, instead of pajamas, he was dressed in office attire, standing in line with colleagues for his company’s much-anticipated Training Day 2025.

The venue was no ordinary meeting hall. A lavish hotel function room buzzed with life as employees from every department converged. The Engagement Team cheered loudly, their energy infecting even the most reluctant attendees.

The Arrival of the Big Bosses

The atmosphere shifted as familiar faces from newsletters and email blasts — the company’s top brass — made their way into the lobby.

“Oh my, that’s Boss Archie.”

“Wow! Jon made it all the way from Australia?”

Murmurs of amazement swept the room. Then came Gustavo’s unmistakable voice:

“Well kiss my lips and call me Sally! He’s here! It’s Gaspar! The greatest of us all!”

Gustavo enthusiastically high fives his teammate Gaspar who had just arrived. His antics earned chuckles from his small circle of friends, though most eyes remained glued to the higher-ups.

A Quiet Saturday Morning That Didn’t Last Long

In a quiet suburban neighborhood in Laguna, the sound of birds, children at play, and neighbors at work paints the perfect Saturday morning. But for Gustavo, coffee in hand and cigarette smoke curling in the air, that peace is fragile—easily broken by the sudden buzz of his phone.

A quiet Saturday morning unfolds in the neighborhood. Birds are chirping, chickens are clucking, and kids are playing in the sunlit streets. The golden rays kiss the dampened community, still fresh from last night’s rain.

Inside a well-lit room, Gustavo—a rotund man known for his quirks—clutches his pillow and lets out a calm groan as he stretches his limbs. For once, he wakes without the shrill scream of his alarm clock. The silence is strange but comforting.