It was an early morning in Nagrebcan. The early sun is rising and a gray mist looms over the barrio and yet not a single person is in sight.
My puppy, My puppyYou are a foolish puppyFoolish, foolish, foolish
Baldo, after descended the ladder bends down, reached for the black-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He rubbed his face against that of the dog.
Nana Elang, the mother of Baldo, appeared in the doorway with handful of rice straw.
Get two or three burning coals and bring them home on the rice straw. Do not wave the straw in the wind. If you do, it will catch fire before you get home.
Okay mother.
When Baldo came back with the rice straw, Nana Elang had already prepared the rice in the pot and pots for the mess of vegetables and fish.
No.
There is the fire, mother. Is father awake already?
Baldo, once again, went to play with the puppies. Meanwhile, Ambo, his seven year old brother, awake crying. Nana Elang called him to the kitchen and later came down with a ripe banana in his hand. He ate the banana without peeling it.
I will not. It is not your banana.
You are not eating it.
You foolish boy, remove the skin.
But the skin is tart. It taste bad.
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