The telephone rang incessantly in the living room of the old dilapidated apartment along the corner of V.G. Cruz and Dapitan Streets in Sampaloc, Manila one early Saturday morning. After several successive rings, Beinte- beinte, the sour- faced, denture- wearing landlady picked up the telephone receiver and said, “hello?” The voice at the other end of the line spoke in their native Bicol dialect.

“Pwede tabi makahuron si Pakal? (May I speak with Pakal?), said the man on the other side of the line.

“Halat nguna tabi, siisay tabi ini?” (Wait a minute please, who’s this please?) Asked Beinte-beinte, with a curious tone reflected in her sing- song manner of speaking.

“Barkada niya po, si Awo.” (It’s his friend, Awo), the man finallyidentifying himself.

“Pakal, telepono!” shouted Beinte-beinte at the top of her voice as a half-naked and unkempt Pakal emerged running from his bonk under the wooden stairs of the rat-infested apartment.

“Hello?”

“Padi, maghirilingan kita atyan kan grupo sa SM Centerpoint para mag- orogma buda magka biriyo lamang kita.” (Pal, we’ll have a get- together and have some fun at the SM Centerpoint this afternoon)

“What time?”

“3:30 pm at the food court, near the escalator,” having said that Awo, replaced the receiver and grinned sheepishly as he reached for his pocket and searched for loose change and gave three 25 centavo coins to the young lady waitress at the Carenderia* where he was calling who was suspiciously giving him the eye for the payment of his call.

Kalasyo was lying down on the sofa, reading the Sports Section of the morning tabloid when the phone rang. He waited for the third ring before he picked up the receiver and the familiar excited voice on the other end of the line spoke even before he could say a word. “3:30 pm, near the escalator, SM Centerpoint Food Court,” and hurriedly hung up the phone. Kalasyo knew the voice and a silly smile registered on his face as he went back reading the morning paper.

Somewhere in Sta. Mesa, Irago was cleaning the gun that he just bought for two thousand bucks from Pesak, the local toughie that he befriended when he first arrived in the neighborhood several weeks ago by inviting and joining him in his drinking sessions day in and day out. It was an old rusty .38 caliber snub-nosed Paltik* revolver made by Filipino gunsmiths in Danao, Cebu that looks like the real McCoy complete with Smith & Wesson markings and serial numbers that would fool an untrained eye, an exact replica of the original imported one. He was oiling the gun when Odo came and told him about the planned reunion of the B49ers in the afternoon. He was so excited and elated by the news that he decided to fool and put one over his friend as he got a bullet from his pocket and slid it into the empty chambers, rolled the ball and put the muzzle in his temple and squeezed the trigger to the horrors of Odo! Of course Irago knew where the bullet would be even before he put the barrel into his temple, a trick that he learned from his older brother who was in the army, the only sibling that he gets along with for he treated him like what a real older brother should be. Unfortunately, his big brother died in an ambush staged by the Secessionist Muslim rebels in Mindanao just a few years back. He erupted in sudden and uncontrollable fits of laughter upon seeing the bewildered expressions of his buddy! Odo for his part finally realized the prank that Irago played on him as he dared and challenged him to play Russian roulette with a loaded .45 Caliber pistol instead as they both burst into a roar of thunderous laughter that reverberated into the adjacent rooms of the boarding house.

The scene was quiet surreal as the long-lost friends finally had their long-awaited reunion in the City of Man. The celebration was a riot with everybody having a good time as they reminisced and talked about their lives in far away Basag and their exciting adventures in the city that they now call home. Beer flowed like water and Chicharon Bulaklak* came a-plenty that day as they marveled about their newly found life and experiences of living in a different environment that they were used to. The celebration lasted until dark. After several dozen pitchers of their favorite San Miguel Beer Pale Pilsen, they made themselves promise to another to meet again in the near future to finalize their grand plan of finally conquering the beast that is, Manila.