“Shut up!” he yelled, his forehead veins starting to bulge.

“Oh, yeah? He thinks he’s the tansan king!” mocked the neighborhood bully whose face was turning into a snarl.

“If you don’t quit it, I’ll hit you!” he shouted, his fingers curling into fists.

They were playing **taksi. He was considered the master by the neighborhood boys. His paper bag was bulging with his prized, well-earned bottle caps, jingling noises emanating from it. He would jiggle the bag with the chin up in the air and the corners of mouth turned upward as often as he could. The bully was needling him about it while the other players stopped to watch with bated breath.

“Tansan king! Tansan king!” the bully continued.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll really hit you!”

“Oh, really?” responded the bully, facing the threat with raised fists.

They circled, his right hand and right foot always forward being a southpaw. The bully countered with his north paw stance. Air jabs dominated at the start with the other players egging them on.

“Ka pow!” He hit first. Leading with right jabs, his left hook landed on the bully’s jaw.

“Ow!” The bully reeled back, wiping the red-tinged saliva off his face. Boos and cheers from the crowd echoed in the neighborhood. Adults watching nearby rolled their eyes.

“They’re at it again!” groaned one adult.

“Good! Perhaps they’ll kill each other. The neighborhood will again be peaceful!” growled another.

The bully’s footwork quickened, his left hand doing air jabs just as fast.

“Bam!” His face got hit by the bully’s right fist!

A corner portion of the box mosquito net swathed his head with the back of a chair on his face. The chair that held up that corner of the net got pulled down when he was squirming in his sleep, his face getting the brunt of it!

“Huh?” he uttered, surprised at the sight.

There was no taksi or bully! He was inside the mosquito net, asleep on a rolled out ***banig on the floor, his dream turning into a nightmare!

“Thank God,” he moaned, easing the pain on his face with his hand, his eyes tearing up a little.

He crawled out, careful not to wake up his 3 brothers.

“I won’t use that chair anymore,” he murmured. “I’ll connect you to the opposite wall like the other 3, no matter how far it is!” he continued, chastising the guilty corner of the net with his index finger.

Putting up the mosquito net was never a challenge. However, sleeping with 3 brothers on the same mat was. It was bad since the mat was not adequate for 4 growing boys, and worse since they were all bed wetters. Accusing anyone in the morning for the “accident” was always a denying game.

“Not me!” one would say.

“Not me either!” the others chorusing in or taking turns in the denial.

After a prolonged search in the dark, he found a longer cord and fastened that corner of the net onto a nail on the opposing wall. He crept inside, propping his pillow under his head. With eyes closed tight, he prayed.

“God, please, let it be a nice dream this time!” he mouthed. “And please, let me hold my bladder this time too!”

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*tansan = metal bottle cap
**taksi = Filipino game involving metal bottle caps and a flat stone (bato). Caps are placed in the middle of a hand-drawn square on the ground. Each player takes turn in hitting the caps with their stones. Caps knocked out of the square are kept by the winning player.
***banig = a handwoven mat traditionally used in the Philippines for sleeping.