Dumb, Dumber, Dumberest

Alady I was dating insisted that I hear Mass last month. I’ve known her for quite sometime now and I agreed to her request just to earn some brownie points. You see, folks, I would love to tell you that I go to church every Sunday without skipping a beat. I also fancy sharing that I’m chanting praises and as dedicated as my great aunt, who has memorized the scriptures by heart. Oh, how I’d love to tell you! Unfortunately, I can’t.

And just like Karn Armstrong, I have disliked attending Mass ever since I was cynical enough to notice that numerous souls who took part in the Holy Communion at our district saw it as a chance to show-off their brand-new shirts, jeans, and footwear. They did it every week and I can still see those boys open their filthy mouths, and strut back to their seats while donning the latest jacket design from Mr. Hilfiger.

There’s really nothing wrong with dressing in your fancy clothes to look good in church, and it’s pretty hard to explain, but it was the way those fellas carried themselves in front of God and everyone else that made their turnout look sacrilegious.

The last time I ever went to church and really meant it was way back near the summer of ‘97. I was still a lad back then, around 18 years old and the whole world was at my fingertips. It was spinning around for me and the thought of ever letting a subject slide to less than 2.25 was inconceivable. Or so I thought.

Enter the world of Roy Arellano, Cesar Alcantara, and yours truly. After breezing through the first half of the semester, mostly through kodikos and/or blackmails, my average started to slip – mainly because of that darn statistics subject. I pleaded with my gay professor to give me an extra-credit report or such; but my charms, already as modest as they were, failed me once again. I actually had to study for the blasted final exam. And boy, did I really hit the books big time.

I headed to the library and had trouble finding the entrance. It also took me awhile to locate the math section. It’s not that I haven’t seen or been to the library before, but I’ve always decided to view and appreciate it from the outside. Anyway, I stayed for about two hours dissecting those pesky formulas and I already felt that I had enough knowledge to get a grade of flat 2. It was my ego talking, I felt, because I hurried over to a shady tree, smoked a cigarette, and went straight to the classroom.

I saw Roy and Cesar save me a seat between them as they smiled their disgusting teeth out. I grinned in return and eyed them suspiciously. I didn’t say anything and just pretended to take a short nap on my seat because I knew one of them had to crack. And I was right. He didn’t even try to sugarcoat his intentions either, the bastard.

"Pare, ang pogi mo ngayon! Pa-kopya, ha!" Roy said.

"Tarantado! Nambola ka pa. ‘Di ako nag-aral noh," I lied.

"Woo-shoo! Nakita ka naming pumasok sa library, eh." Cesar butted-in.

"Oo nga. This is the first time I saw you go inside that godforsaken place. Kaya pa-kopya na, ha, fafa?" Roy exclaimed.

"Susmaryosep! Oo na! Basta wag kayong…"

"Ssshhh! Pare, pare! Nandyan na ‘yung prof na bading!"

That was maybe one of the most grueling tests I’ve taken, and the one-hour time limit kinda seemed like three or four. However, my poor head still was able to get some answers right, and I was confident that I’d get a passing mark at least. Roy then began shaking my seat with his leg. I tried to ignore him, but when Cesar joined the "chair-quake," I had no choice but to tilt my test paper sideward to give him a clear view.

Roy hastily got all my answers and passed them onto Cesar. I shook my head, glared at them and submitted my paper to the proctor – a little old lady whose eyes were so bad, a mole’s could actually beat hers in a simple vision test. The two idiots followed suit and treated me to an ice cream sundae at the cafeteria. It was worth it, I thought, merrily licking away at my pistachio cones.

We all thought we had pulled off one of the oldest capers in the book, and we even began laughing about it. And it was only when I came back a few days later for the results did I notice something was very wrong. I heard from a classmate that three test papers were being withheld and it did not take a genius to know whom they belonged to.

"Ma’am proctor, please naman, hindi po kami nag-kopyahan! Promise! I pleaded."

"Oo nga ma’am! Parang awa n’yo na. Wala naman po kami ginawang masama eh. Paki-release na lang po ‘yung papers namin!" Cesar cried.

"Sniff! Baka silang dalawa lang po ‘yung nang-daya sa exam. Wala po akong kinalaman d’yan. Ayoko kasi mag-summer ma’am!" Roy said, as Cesar and I gave him dirty looks.

"I’m sorry mga iho. Pero pare-pareho lahat ‘yung answers ninyo dito. Magkatabi pa kayo ng mga upuan. And besides, sinong gagaguhin nyo eh nakita ko kayo mismo nagbibigayan ng sagot!" the proctor said. I guess her eyes weren’t that bad.

And after several more minutes of lying with straight faces, incredible tales that included heavy missionary work in Sudan, we realized that reasoning with the old lady was utterly useless. The three of us dejectedly walked towards the exit gate of the school grounds and a row started. I angrily yakked at Roy and Cesar for being total idiots in the fine art of cheating, while they wanted their money back for the sundae they bought me.

"&#@^$(#! Kasi naman eh! Mangongopya na nga lang, hindi pa ayusin! Mga tanga!" I shouted.

"Hoy hoy hoy! Masyado ka kasing obvious mag-patingin ng papel!" Roy slurred.

"At ako pa pala may kasalanan ngayon eh kayong dalawa d’yan may pakana!"

"Ikaw naman ang kunsintidor!" Cesar shot back at me.

I looked at them with widened eyes and was about to smack one of them in the head when we suddenly passed by a church. Roy suggested we should go inside and ask forgiveness. Naturally, I told him he was daft and continued on walking. But when Cesar decided to go in with him, I had no choice.

I’ve been to church many times before, but only that day, in all its serenity and beauty did I feel totally at ease.
There were no teenagers showing-off their new outfits, or mothers half-listening to the sermon while tending to their four year-olds groping the entire space of the marbled floor. The church was sacred and I felt more spiritual than I had ever been. Without looking at the two, I got down on my knees and began to pray. It was indeed, the last refuge of a scoundrel.

Now I know I’m not really that devout a Catholic, so I obviously couldn’t get a lot of Hail Marys in. And so I just spoke to God and did what Roy said: Ask forgiveness. And I don’t know if it was the sheer dedication of my thoughts towards the Almighty, but I truly felt relieved when we stepped out. In fact, I was so enlightened that I was able to accept the realities and consequences of what would happen to the three of us because of what we did. Oh, sure it looked pretentious at first because I didn’t really go there regularly. And I knew it was selfish and pathetic, but when you’re an 18 year-old horndog in trouble, you’d do anything too.

And so when I got went back the following day to face the music, I spotted Roy by the burger stand, waving at me and holding some test papers. I was ecstatic! I knew there had to be a miracle somehow, and this was it – all it took was a prayer to get over a hump!

"Pare pare! Atin ba ‘yan? Na-release na rin ‘yung test papers natin?" I excitedly asked.

"Oo, tsong. At least nasagot mga dasal natin, ‘di ba?" Roy dejectedly said.

"S’yempre naman. Tayo pa! Eh na-release na pala eh! Baket ganyan pa rin ang mukha mo? Para kang namatayan, tol?"

"Of course, hayop ka! Nag-pakopya ka eh wala ka nga din pala alam. Puro mali sagot mo eh! Bagsak tayo sa exam! Kaya bale-wala ito! Nakakabwiset!" Roy shouted.

I spent the rest of the day praying and hoping for another miracle. And no, I’m not saying if it did occur this time.

* * * E-mail mister_foxy@yahoo.com.