My Aunt's WTF Moment?

I'm not one to fall for tall stories if it happened to somebody I haven't even met. Exceptions to this rule come in the form of outstanding literature (yes, I believe there was a Middle Earth) done by any and all authors of the fantasy genre. Well, maybe not Stephenie Meyer. Okay, fine, I'll include her.

My family has heard its share of scary stories and I've told some of them myself. Believing them is an entirely different matter. Although I've to admit the one about Tenyente Gimo is one that still has me scared of going out of town with new friends. If you have no idea who he is and what story he's in, wait for my next post.

Anyway, my aunt's latest money-making exploit is to go out of town and sell stuff during market day. It's a sure fire hit if you're pushy and lucky and can carry a bag filled with a hundred bars of laundry soap that weigh almost as much as your average 4-year-old kid that eats too much.

One of the places they went to was Antique, pronounced with 3 syllables. They decided to go individually and knock on doors instead of just hanging out at the market waiting for people to convince themselves the unknown detergent my aunt's group is selling can clean as well as Tide. Fat chance.

My aunt went on a secluded looking little path that had maybe 5 houses along it, at the most. None of the houses seem to show signs of life, but she told herself maybe if she shouted loud enough, somebody was bound to buy a bar. The last house on the lane looked as empty as the others, but this time my aunt decided to knock on the front door instead of just calling out on the street outside the fence, beyond the reach of possible dogs.

When she came near the door, she noticed that there were signs of movement from inside, as evidenced by shadows stirring visible through a gap between the floor and the door. She called out, "Special offer, sir, ma'am..."

More movements, but the door remained closed. She called again. This time she heard approaching footsteps. Then a lock being removed. Finally, the knob turned. My aunt was already preparing for her special offer spiel and extending her hands filled with special offer soap when the door opened and she almost turned Caucasian with fright.

The man on the other side of the door was wearing dirty trousers and a shirt with the logo of a famous pest control brand, but what got my aunt to curse her choce of livelihood is the spit that was hanging from the man's mouth and stretching all the way to his waist. He didn't blink. He didn't say anything. He merely stared at my aunt while his saliva continued its mission of possibly reaching the floor.

Now if I were in this position, I would undoubtedly either go limp with fright and be dinner to the guy, or scream my lungs out while running like hell. My aunt was of a stronger disposition than me, bless her. What she did was still go through the spiel she prepared for the soap-selling while slowly backing out of the man's yard and never breaking eye contact. When she got clear of the man's reach, assuming his reach was that of a normal man's, my aunt high-tailed it out of there, and has now decided never to go back to that town again.

Of course we have no idea what or who the guy was. Or why he was slobbering like that. Maybe he was just so hungry (the normal way). Or maybe he was in a competition with another old man from the same village on how long they can let their drool hang out. We don't know. But with the reputation, that I only just heard of, of towns outside Iloilo being home to creatures of the night, my aunt was probably justified in reacting the way she did.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've to double lock the doors. You never know.