Everyone in the group had a favourite word. It would roll off their tongues with ease, becoming their vocal IDs. One loved to say “Seriously” and its meaning depended on the arch of the eyebrow, the pursing of the lips or the spread of the lips. Another one loved to say “Hello” and the length of the last letter and the pitch of the voice determined the meaning of that four-letter word. Two peppered their dialogues with “Sorry” every now and then that kept others wondering what they were apologising about. While one group – about three of them – stuck by a short word prolonging the last letter when saying it. It reminded her of someone pretending to cry. No, it reminded her more of Marcel Marceau who suddenly talked during his act. Recognition of who they were came from the way they pronounced words and the peculiar lilt in their voices.

No feathers were ruffled or collars chafed at the innocuous vocal IDs woven into conversations, idle chatters, banters and discussions until one was fortunate enough to be stuck listening to a particular member of the group who simply loved to flaunt the imagined superiority felt over the local counterparts.

“Food is about to be served. Let’s go!” invited a colleague excitedly who was ravenous and just about ready to wolf down a horse one time at a gathering.

“I don’t eat that. I am not a monkey,” was the condescending reply which the famished colleague chose to let slide his back like water from a duck’s tail.

Insinuations of supremacy were rife. One had to have the ear and wit to pick up the innuendos through the veiled camaraderie gamely put on by this sly member of the group.

“All right, singing time!” was the call of the team leader to jumpstart the night’s activity during one of the numerous out-of-town retreats.

“What are you going to sing?” enquired the then-ravenous colleague.

“I am not going to sing. I am not a monkey,” was the same patronizing reply received, which he ignored as he walked away.

One poor chap, hoping to strike up a conversation, was the next victim.

“What you sing?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Sorry, I don’t speak monkey or talk to monkeys,” was the terse answer.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by ako_si_aoisoba on December 8, 2010 at 9:00 am

    goodness sino yang bakulaw na yan


  2. Posted by Fistri on December 10, 2010 at 4:53 pm

    sheesh..who stepped on her tails?


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