Goddess, I Am.

Here’s a story that I haven’t written about yet, which is weird because it’s actually kind of hilarious. Well, for me, that is.

Once upon a time in mid-November, The Fiance was woken up at around 4 in the morning by the incessant barking – no, make that yapping – of a dog. Now, there are loads of dogs in the neighborhood and they’re not exactly quiet, but this one was particularly annoying. It’s that kind of yapping that borders on a whine and a shrill bark, so imagine that.

Anyway, he ran out of the house to look for the dog, and found IT – a puppy – uncomfortably tied up to one of our neighbor’s window grills. He could see a light and movement in said neighbor’s house, so he tried to call out to whoever was in there so they can do something about the dog. The neighbor, however, turned off the lights and ignored him.

The Fiance then went back to bed, but the yapping continued on and on, royally pissing him off even more. So he goes back to the neighbor’s house – who carried on ignoring him, mind you – and started throwing pebbles at the dog to shut him up. That didn’t work, so he went home absolutely livid.

Later that day, my sister’s helper came to me, saying that said neighbor’s help was complaining about The Fiance pelting the dog with rocks. I, in turn, asked her to tell the neighbor’s help to take the dog out back where we can’t hear it because the noise is really too much to handle, especially when people are trying to get some sleep.

About an hour or so later, she came back telling me that the neighbor – the actual owner of the house – is outside on the street on a rampage. Sure enough, I could hear her screaming to all and sundry about how The Fiance abused her mangy mutt. Now, he isn’t exactly known for sitting back and taking shit from the other people, so he storms out before I can stop him and a screaming match ensued right on our street.

My mother suggested that we take it to the baranggay, so we did. Unfortunately, the office was closed, so we figured we’ll do it in the morning. That night, we couldn’t hear the dog, so we assumed that they’ve moved it elsewhere. We decided not to go to the baranggay the next day, after all. Unfortunately, the yapping started again the next night, so the morning after found us in the baranggay captain’s office.

As it turned out, we were already too late; they’ve already filed a case against The Fiance for harassment, of all things. The idiots that they are, though, they got his name wrong and filed their case against a Steve Eagle.

Now, we have absolutely no idea where they got the last name “Eagle” from. When we moved to Cebu a month back, though, our boxes were all labeled “Eagle Shipping Company’, so they probably used that. Ahhhhh! The stupidity of the human race.

Anyhow, the good people at the office told us that we can actually refuse the summons because he is obviously not Steve Eagle. They also told us that the hearing was set for December 9 and that we can expect a subpoena before then. When it finally showed up weeks later, we refused it, as advised, and sent the messenger on his merry way.

Now, there are two maids in the neighborhood who we call “The Yummies” because they’re both, well, big. Okay, that’s an understatement. They’re actually huge, fat cows in dire need of the best diet pill money can buy. One of them, who I believe is the ringleader of the neighborhood maid posse, is also the biggest gossip this side of the equator. She works for a Korean family, so she thinks she’s all that because she can speak better English than her little friends.

Anyway, my mum was out on her front yard one day when this particular “Yummy” started loitering outside her gate. My mum ignored her. She couldn’t help herself, though, so she started chatting with my mum (in English, no less). She eventually got right down to business and asked my mother who my “husband” is. So mum told her his name is Steve. She then asked, “Just Steve?” – to which mum firmly replied, “Just Steve.”

With their evil plan thwarted, we thought that was the end of it. To our surprise, the messenger came back in January with another subpoena. It was, however, still addressed to Steve Eagle, so that was again a no-go. To this day, I still don’t see the logic of pursuing their little “case” if they couldn’t even get his name right, but then, I have long since stopped trying to figure out what people with little brains are thinking.

The ugly dog is still alive and well, and is now yapping outside our house because the screaming neighbor has recently decided that she’s going to walk him to the store across the street from us at 6 in the morning. Steve Eagle currently has a plan that involves a hose and loads of water. The soon-to-be Mrs. Eagle will keep you posted on how this little drama unfolds.