Wattpad Filipino Block Party 2017

HeadphonesAndLuck's New Story Teaser

SMS CASEFILES: KING OF EVERYTHING

CHAPTER ONE
THE CLEANING LADY SAVED ME FROM THE POLICE

Fraulein Snow.

23. April.

Office of the Secretary.

Municipal Hall, Kolkata.

My name is not Fraulein Snow.

In fact, my real name is nowhere near the sound of that.

I just whipped that name up when chaos ensued after I met a certain megalomaniac lunatic who was coincidentally and unfortunately blessed with a very superior intellect and a very poor—no, lower than poor—human skills.

It all started that day when I was boringly staring at our city mayor's secretary as she insensitively chastised and insulted my whole existence like a graceful frog sitting on a leather lotus inside her chamber of dead rats, flies, and stinky poo. Even her breath smells like one and it was hellish with the air-conditioner on.

"How would one describe you, uhh, Mr. Gomez?" she narrowed her eyes at me through her crescent reading glasses.

And for starters, that was my real surname.

Secretary McFroggy grunted a bit before she went on, "Good-for-nothing, an eternal trouble-maker, ill-mannered, scrupulous, rebellious–"

"Charming–"

"–fowl." She raised a brow and crossed her arms as she continued mocking me. "No one gave you the permission to talk."

I beamed.

"You see, Mr. Gomez, I have never been your teacher nor your neighbour but I've heard a lot about you from almost everyone in this city. You sure are infamous."

She paused and straightened her posture, which I reckon is a permission to protest and at least defend myself to give her more reasons to add up to her 'Why People Should Avoid Mr. Gomez: The Prologue'.

"Ma'am," I strongly stopped myself from calling her Secretary McFroggy, "I'm just here to see if I could ask for a job."

"Where did you learn how to speak in English?" she still had that suffocatingly condescending air, but nevertheless, I knew she was impressed.

"My mother was a journalist and a radio broadcaster and my father is Norwegian. Though they separated."

She grimaced sourly and nodded. "That must be the reason why your upbringing is very poor. Your mother is the crazy woman loitering around the town plaza, isn't she?"

I dramatically nodded in agreement to piss her off—I knew she's having fun stepping down on me and generally everyone.

And it worked.

With her left lip twitching, she barked, "Off you go! No available jobs for rebels and undergraduates and generally kids from the slums!"

"Wow," a scoff escaped my lips and I shook my head in disbelief. "You're like, saying that you can't allow a stupid man to go to school because he's too stupid? Or a homeless man to work to have a decent home because he's homeless? What the fuck?"

She pounded the table with her fists and her nostrils flared in anger. "Aba, Gomez! Makinig ka–"

"Oh, bakit nagTagalog ka na?"

She threw daggers of glare at me.

And I dodged with a smirk.

"Get. Out." She hissed.