Oishi Narrating
(tired of Susan’s shenanigans)
“Badoodle, what if this happens and not that? What if I make a mistake? What if I say the wrong thing? What if they don’t like my spaghetti? What if they ask why I put condensed milk in it? What if they think it’s dessert?”
That was Susan.
At 2 A.M.
Hugging her pillow.
Staring at the ceiling.
Worrying.
And the worst part?
I couldn’t sleep because she suddenly scooped me up and hugged me like I was an emotional support teddy bear.
Excuse me, Sus.
You already have a pillow.
Why am I involved?
I am a dog.
I am not your therapist.
Well…
Technically I am.
But it’s 2 A.M.
Let me sleep.
I need my beauty rest.
My fur doesn’t moisturize itself.
Susan Narrating
(dramatic but genuinely tired)
It was 2 A.M. and I couldn’t sleep.
My brain decided it was the perfect time to replay every embarrassing moment from the last decade.
Things I said 8 years ago.
Things people did to me 6 years ago.
The spaghetti I brought to a party 2 years ago.
Opportunities I didn’t take because I was afraid.
Decisions I delayed because I overthought them.
Entire conversations that nobody else remembers except me.
I was hugging my pillow with teary eyes, staring at the ceiling and secretly hoping God would write the answer to my problems up there.
A glowing PowerPoint presentation would have been nice.
Instead, I got nothing.
So I threw my pillow aside, grabbed Oishi, and hugged him tightly.
He is one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Although sometimes I suspect he’s judging me.
His face says “I love you.”
His eyebrows say “What is wrong with you?”
Eventually I put Oishi back in his doggie bed and walked outside.
The backyard was quiet.
The air wasn’t hot.
It wasn’t cold.
Just right.
I could hear distant airplanes.
Night birds chirping.
Leaves moving with the breeze.
The stars.
The moon.
Everything looked peaceful.
I looked around and sighed.
“I wish my mind was as peaceful as this.”
I had barely settled into my chair when I heard a commotion.
Oishi started barking.
Loudly.
Oh no.
He’s back.
Demonyito.
A small purple demon wearing a bathrobe and carrying a toilet plunger like some kind of budget supervillain.
And then a bolt of lightning crashed directly into my garbage bin.
I jumped.
The smoke cleared.
Angelusito was upside down in the trash.
Of course.
The lovable chubby angel had somehow missed the entire backyard and landed directly in the pile of appliance boxes I threw out yesterday.
A banana peel was hanging off his head.
I walked over and looked down.
“Nice landing.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Oh.”
Angelusito climbed out of the garbage.
“Hi Sus,” Angelusito said cheerfully. “The Boss sent me because—”
Before he could finish, Demonyito interrupted.
“Nobody cares.”
Typical.
“I’m back because we’re not done talking, Susan.”
He tried to sound intimidating.
It would’ve worked better if Oishi wasn’t hanging from his robe like an angry furry piranha.
The robe was hanging on by faith alone.
A few minutes later, Angelusito somehow convinced everyone to sit down.
Including Demonyito.
He handed all of us hot chocolate.
Even Demonyito.
I objected immediately.
“Why does he get hot chocolate?”
Angelusito blinked.
“Because he’s here.”
“He deserves wasabi juice.”
Demonyito ignored me and happily sipped his drink like a hungry cockroach that had just discovered a buffet.
Then he turned toward me.
Grinning.
“Susan, do you remember August 1998?”
I immediately groaned.
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
Unfortunately, I did.
“The day someone told you that you were fat.”
I sighed.
“Yes.”
Demonyito smiled wider.
Then he started unloading every insecurity I had ever tried to bury.
“Do you remember when your coworker took credit for your work?”
“Do you remember when your siblings annoyed you so much you threw pillows at them?”
“Do you remember that classmate who now owns a yacht and a private jet?”
“Did you see your neighbor’s newborn baby?”
“Do you think you’ll ever have the family you’ve been praying for?”
“Will you ever experience snow?”
“Travel the world?”
“Or are you stuck here forever?”
“Constant water interruptions.”
“High electric bills.”
“Flooding.”
“And don’t get me started on the commute. I’ve seen more personal space inside a sardine can.”
Then he leaned forward dramatically.
“Do you think God ever listened?”
I felt my chest tighten.
Demonyito paused.
Then delivered his final attack.
“And most importantly…”
He pointed at me.
“Who puts condensed milk in spaghetti?”
That one hurt the most.
My heart hurt.
I looked at Angelusito.
I didn’t say anything, but I was staring at him with my eyes screaming:
HELP!?
That’s why you’re here, right?
Please tell me that’s why you’re here.
I was trying my best not to burst into tears, but I failed spectacularly.
I cried.
A lot.
Meanwhile, Oishi barked even louder, trying to scare Demonyito away.
Unfortunately, this little demon was like a cockroach.
Annoying.
Persistent.
And somehow always back when you least wanted him around.
Angelusito finally spoke.
“Sus, what do you think about what Demonyito said?”
I stared at my cup of hot chocolate.
“They’re true,” I said softly.
Then I lowered my head.
Angelusito nodded.
“Some of them are.”
Demonyito grinned.
Angelusito ignored him.
“Your coworker did take credit for your work.”
I nodded.
“But eventually people found out it was your work.”
I looked up.
“They recognized your contribution.”
I nodded again.
“And they even gave you a raise.”
Demonyito’s smile became smaller.
Angelusito continued.
“Your brothers do annoy you.”
“Frequently,” I added.
“Extremely frequently,” Angelusito corrected.
“Sometimes I wonder if they were specifically designed to test my patience.”
“Possibly.”
I laughed.
“But they’re still close to you.”
I thought about family dinners.
My mom.
My brothers.
That furry dog.
The chaos.
The laughter.
The arguments about absolutely nothing.
The blessings I often forget because they’re familiar.
Angelusito smiled.
“And what about that friend?”
I blinked.
“What friend?”
“The one who has been showing up for years.”
I immediately knew who he meant.
“The friend who says yes to spontaneous plans before even knowing where you’re going.”
“The friend who listened to your stories, your worries, your dreams, and your endless overthinking sessions.”
“The friend who has seen multiple versions of you since college.”
“The friend who stayed.”
I smiled.
“The one who celebrated your wins.”
“The one who sat beside you during disappointments.”
“The one who never needed perfect circumstances to be your friend.”
Angelusito pointed at me.
“You talk a lot about the things you don’t have.”
Then he pointed toward my heart.
“But sometimes you forget the people God already gave you.”
I looked down at my cup.
Because he was right.
Friendships like that don’t happen every day.
They’re gifts.
“And don’t forget your relatives.”
“The aunties, uncles, and cousins who support you, pray for you, and always make room for you in their lives.”
I smiled.
Because Angelusito was right.
Those are blessings too.
Angelusito smiled again.
“Do you really need a yacht?”
“No.”
“A private jet?”
“No.”
“A helicopter?”
“Maybe.”
“Sus.”
“Okay, no.”
Even Oishi rolled his eyes.
Angelusito pointed at Oishi.
“And you may not have a baby right now, but you do have him.”
I looked at Oishi.
The tiny dog adjusted his glasses.
“I am not a substitute child.”
“You absolutely are,” I said.
Oishi sighed dramatically.
Angelusito chuckled.
“Besides, he acts like a three-year-old with the wisdom of a seventy-year-old monk.”
I giggled.
That was surprisingly accurate.
Then Angelusito became serious.
“Susan, I’m not dismissing your situation.”
I listened.
“I understand why you want to see the world.”
“I understand why you want to experience snow.”
“I understand why you dream about traveling and living somewhere new.”
His voice softened.
“Those are beautiful dreams.”
I nodded.
Because they were.
“But don’t let your future dreams blind you to today’s blessings.”
He gestured toward the night sky.
“You live in a beautiful country.”
“The beaches make you stop and stare.”
“The mountains amaze you every time.”
“The sunsets make people pull out their phones.”
I smiled.
“Although…”
Angelusito rubbed the back of his neck.
“The commute is genuinely terrible.”
“THANK YOU.”
“No arguments there.”
“One time I had to commute after losing my powers for a day.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Long story.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tell me.”
Angelusito sighed.
“I lost count of how many strangers accidentally touched my butt while someone’s armpit was basically introducing itself to my face.”
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my hot chocolate.
“See?”
Angelusito said.
“I’m not saying your frustrations aren’t real.”
“They are.”
“Life can be difficult.”
“Sometimes very difficult.”
“But don’t mistake a difficult season for a hopeless life.”
The backyard became quiet.
Even Demonyito stopped talking.
Angelusito looked directly at me.
“So Sus, I understand why you’re searching for happiness.”
“I understand why you’re searching for ease.”
“And I believe you’ll experience many of those things someday.”
Snow.
Travel.
Adventure.
New places.
New memories.
“But even though God loves you, you’ll still need to take steps forward.”
“Work with Him.”
“Walk with Him.”
“Trust Him.”
“But keep moving.”
Then Angelusito pointed at me.
“And one more thing.”
I groaned.
“The spaghetti?”
“The spaghetti.”
He opened a tiny notebook.
“Brenda loves your spaghetti.”
I smiled.
“Yohanes loves your spaghetti.”
I smiled wider.
“Most Filipinos love sweet spaghetti.”
“Exactly!”
I pointed at Demonyito.
“See?”
Demonyito looked offended.
“I still think it’s weird.”
“NOBODY ASKED YOU.”
For the first time that night, my heart felt a little lighter.
Then Angelusito turned serious again.
“But there is one thing I completely disagree with.”
He looked directly at Demonyito.
“The question about whether God has been listening.”
Demonyito immediately looked away.
Angelusito pulled out a notebook.
A very thick notebook.
A suspiciously thick notebook.
He started flipping pages.
“1998.”
Flip.
“2001.”
Flip.
“2004.”
Flip.
“Last year.”
Flip.
“Last month.”
Flip.
“Last week.”
Flip.
I stared.
“Is that about me?”
“Unfortunately.”
He pointed at the pages.
“These are all the things you worried about.”
I recognized them.
Every fear.
Every panic.
Every what-if.
Every disaster I was convinced would happen.
“You literally thanked God because none of these happened.”
I winced.
Then Angelusito continued.
“And remember when you apologized because during the height of your anxiety you accused Him of not helping you?”
Ouch.
I remembered.
Angelusito closed the notebook.
“Turns out He did.”
Every.
Single.
Time.
The backyard became quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes you think.
Then Angelusito smiled.
“And this list doesn’t even include all the provisions, protection, and help God has given you that you don’t know about.”
I swallowed.
“He listens, Sus.”
“Always.”
He pointed at Demonyito.
“So don’t listen to that little purple toilet-plunger punk.”
Demonyito gasped.
“That’s offensive.”
“It was meant to be.”
I laughed.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting in my heart all night.
“So what should I do?”
Angelusito took a sip of hot chocolate.
Then he smiled.
“First, stop trying to live next week, next month, and next year all at the same time.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Most of your worries aren’t happening today.”
He pointed at my forehead.
“They’re happening in here.”
“You’re fighting battles that haven’t happened yet.”
“You’re answering questions nobody asked.”
“You’re arguing with imaginary people who don’t even know they’re part of the conversation.”
Oishi barked once.
“Exactly,” Angelusito said.
Then he pointed toward the trees.
“Jesus taught people to focus on today.”
“Tomorrow matters.”
“But today is the only day you can actually do something about.”
He looked toward the night sky.
“Look at the birds.”
“Look at the flowers.”
“They’re not holding emergency meetings at two in the morning.”
I laughed.
“They trust the God who made them.”
Then Angelusito looked at me.
“And you’re worth far more than flowers.”
My eyes started getting watery again.
“When the what-ifs start shouting, remember what God has already done.”
He tapped his notebook.
“You keep a record of your worries.”
“Maybe start keeping a record of God’s faithfulness too.”
Ouch.
That one landed.
“And when your heart feels heavy?”
“Pray.”
“Even if I don’t know what to say?”
“Especially then.”
“Even if all I can say is ‘Lord, help’?”
Angelusito smiled.
“Those are some of the most honest prayers.”
Then he opened his notebook and read:
Philippians 4:6-7
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
Then another page.
1 Peter 5:7
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
And another.
Matthew 11:28-30
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Then he closed the notebook.
“God never asked you to carry tomorrow, Sus.”
He pointed upward.
“That’s His department.”
After hearing all of that, it felt like someone had removed a giant brick from my shoulders.
The noise in my head became quiet.
The sky above me looked clearer.
And somehow, so did my thoughts.
At some point, Oishi finally managed to chase Demonyito away.
The little demon ran off screaming dramatic threats.
Oishi came back panting proudly, went straight to the fridge, drank his apple juice, and immediately went to bed.
Meanwhile, Angelusito suddenly shot into the sky.
“Susssss!”
“What?!”
“Go to the kitchen!”
“Why?!”
“Someone is waiting for youuuuuuu!”
Then he disappeared.
I rolled my eyes.
“Drama queen.”
Still, I went inside.
The kitchen door was slightly open.
I could hear a kettle.
The gentle sound of someone stirring hot chocolate.
I slowly walked closer.
Then I saw His hand.
The scar.
The hole.
And suddenly tears filled my eyes.
How could I ever believe the lie that God wasn’t listening?
How could I question His love when the scars in His hands were proof of it?
How could He ignore the people He created?
The people He willingly gave His life for?
I opened the door.
Ran toward Him.
And hugged Him.
“I’m sorry, Lord.”
He hugged me back.
Somehow still managing to hold two cups of hot chocolate.
Multitasking.
Divine-level multitasking.
He smiled.
Looked at me.
And simply said:
“I’m always here.”
Then from the other room…
We heard Oishi snoring.
The End.
Still Rising. Still Barking.
Ember - Fire and Soul 
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