Guided by light, driven by dreams, and ready to fly.

Tag: #ChristianComedy

  • Susan & Oishi Meet Anghelito, Angelusito, and Demonyito (Again)

    Susan narrating

    Before I continue, I need you to first read Part 1 of this madness. Please. I am too shaken to summarize it for you. I still haven’t processed the part where we saw a purple demon in a bathrobe holding a toilet plunger. Was he planning to use our bathroom all along? Also, who brings props?!

    Anyway—Oishi and I screamed like banshees and chased him across the house, but halfway through I got thirsty. Fear is dehydrating, okay? Oishi too—he chugged that weird apricot juice he kept begging me to buy at the grocery. (Don’t ask.) I opened the fridge for water and just when I started calming down…

    CRASH.

    In the backyard.

    Bright lights.

    My first thought? This is it. Jesus has arrived.

    So Badoodle and I ran outside to meet Him—and tell on that little purple troublemaker.

    Oishi narrating

    Unlike Sus, I’m not lazy. Here’s your recap of Part 1:

    Two angels were fighting in heaven. Boss sent them here to babysit us. The end.

    Now back to this disaster.

    Demonyito—this purple chaos goblin—seems determined to flood our lives with inconveniences. I will not allow that. It’s already hard enough managing Susan when things are normal. Can you imagine her with extra stress? I’d need dog therapy.

    So I barked like my life depended on it. Then passed out. Then drank all the apricot juice. Susan chugged water like a basketball player in overtime.

    And then we heard it—the boom, the glow outside… and I knew. It had to be Him. The Lamb. The Lord. I was ready to report everything.

    Susan narrating

    We rushed to the backyard—and there they were.

    Two…boys? Floating. With wings.

    I shouted, “HEY! Get down here and stop this cosplay sorcery! Is that purple bathrobe demon yours?! You’re paying for our plumbing bill!”

    Oishi started nibbling my pants. I think he realized it too—they were actually floating. No wires. No ropes. And the one on the left looked like a tired uncle. The other? Holding… a barbecue stick?

    Then they introduced themselves.

    “Greetings. I’m Anghelito, Heaven’s Pilot.” (Tired Uncle confirmed.)

    “Hi! I’m Angelusito. I got hungry so I bought barbecue on the way. I told Anghelito to grab milk tea but he said Boss said no detours. Anyway, wanna bite?”

    I almost fainted. But before I hit the floor, Angelusito put something under my nose and said, “You okay, Sus?”

    Wait. How did they know my name?!

    And Oishi—traitor that he is—was already letting Anghelito pet him like they were childhood friends.

    Fast forward a few hours…

    They told us the truth.

    God really sent them. To look after us.

    I asked if maybe someone higher-ranked was available…? But honestly, deep down, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while—relief. Like maybe, I’m not as alone as I thought.

    After all these years, it felt weird—but good—to know someone’s watching out for us. Not just Badoodle and me versus the world anymore. Someone else is in our corner.

    (And okay, of course there’s God. But you know what I mean.)

    Oishi narrating

    At some point, I found myself playing Pictionary with Anghelito. I was drawing Demonyito’s crimes with ketchup on a paper plate.

    Susan interrupted, “So… angels huh? That means you’re our new BFFs. Let’s go to the mall! Eat siopao! Karaoke night! And it’s December, you know what that means?”

    “Christ’s birth,” the angels said in perfect unison.

    “And party!” Susan beamed.

    The lights flickered. Then went out.

    Susan narrating

    Oishi barked like there was no tomorrow. Anghelito gave him a look and whispered, “Quiet, soldier.” Oishi obeyed.

    We hid behind the curtains. The angels glowed, so I shoved them inside the cabinet.

    Then we heard it—

    “Susaaaaan… Oishiiii… yuhhooooo…”

    It was Demonyito.

    “Come out, I won’t bite. I brought siopao. I can help you clap back at that annoying coworker. I can get you a car loan for that hot pink car you’ve been eyeing. And Oishiiii… I can give you chicken every day. I’ll even let you pee on all the garden gnomes.”

    I was tempted.

    But Anghelito appeared out of nowhere and declared,

    “Susan doesn’t need a clapback. The Lord said ‘Turn the other cheek.’”

    Angelusito added,

    “She doesn’t need the hot pink car. She works from home 4 days a week. And given your financial situation, you’ll be in debt until the next Jubilee year.”

    They turned to Oishi.

    “Chicken every day is not healthy. And it’s unhygienic to pee on gnomes.”

    We stood our ground. I told Demonyito, “We don’t need your offers. Leave our home. And don’t come back.”

    Oishi barked like a furry warrior.

    Later that night…

    I cooked dinner.

    Boyo dropped by to fix the faucet. He asked if we were okay. I told him Oishi had a hyperactive episode and wrecked the house.

    He didn’t believe me.

    I packed his dinner to-go anyway. I’m not ready to explain angels and demons. Not yet.

    At the table, the angels said, “We’re proud of you, Sus. And Badoodle—you didn’t give in.”

    I smiled and joked, “So when you guys go back to heaven, can you tell Jesus to give me a raise so I won’t need that car loan?”

    “She’s not joking,” Oishi mumbled.

    Anghelito’s Epilogue

    Susan and Oishi will still face life’s chaos—annoying things, tempting shortcuts, moments of loneliness.

    But as long as they stay anchored in the Lord, they’ll be fine.

    Still Rising. Still Barking 🐾

  • ✈️ Delulu Island: Where God Rerouted My Vacation

    Narrated by Oishi

    For the past few weeks, Susan’s been operating on full-blown Dramatic Mode. I—Oishi, her long-suffering emotional support furball—have reached my limit.

    It’s too hot. Then it’s too cold. It’s too noisy. Then too quiet.

    The food? Either too salty, too sweet, or “my siopao tastes different.”

    Mind you, she’s been buying siopao from the same store for the past five years.

    Every day it’s:

    “Badoodle, I need a vacation.

    A new place. Or a new planet.”

    She opens her laptop like she’s searching for a new galaxy. Then suddenly—sparkles.

    Cheap flight.

    Eyes wide.

    Voice dramatic.

    “Badoodle, prepare your things. We’re going to an island.”

    And then she goes full delulu:

    “I’m imagining myself in a swimsuit… hair down, sunglasses on…

    Then one Adonis approaches and says,

    ‘Hey, you look stunning. Can I have your number?’”

    She flips her hair like she’s on a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, I’m internally bleeding.

    But okay—an island sounds nice.

    Sit by the shore.

    Coconut juice.

    Chicken on a stick.

    Heaven.

    Next thing I know, she scoops me up, throws me into a tote bag, and boom—we’re at the airport.

    Susan narrating

    I was so excited I packed light. Scooped Badoodle. Zipped out the door.

    But when we got on the plane… something felt off.

    No flight attendants.

    All the other passengers were in uniform.

    There were literal cargo crates.

    Then I gasped.

    “Badoodle…

    We got on the wrong plane.”

    I ran to the pilot—who, by the way, looked very serious—and said,

    “Miss Pilot, this is a mistake. I need to get off.”

    She looked me dead in the eye:

    “We’re airborne.

    Sit down.”

    “Where is this plane going??”

    “10 AM tomorrow. You’ll see.”

    It was 7 AM.

    Do the math.

    I croaked,

    “Where… are we going?”

    She looked back once and said:

    “Tijibuduri Delulu Island.”

    Excitement: gone.

    What kind of island has “Delulu” in the name?!

    We passed through three storms.

    There was turbulence that felt like someone was shaking a soda can.

    I’ve had smoother rides on roller coasters.

    Finally, the plane landed. The doors opened.

    And there were people waiting—hundreds of them.

    The military team started unloading boxes of food. One sergeant looked at me:

    “You. Help.”

    So… I helped.

    We were taken to a nearby camp.

    I found out that the people here had lost everything—to war and typhoons.

    They weren’t vacationers.

    They were waiting… for relief.

    So I cooked. I served.

    I lifted boxes. I cleaned up.

    I did what I could.

    And that night, I was exhausted. But not in a bad way.

    The kind of tired that comes after doing something that matters.

    Badoodle and I sat by the shore. Quiet.

    A soldier walked by and asked,

    “Where were you supposed to be going?”

    I smiled. Weakly.

    “Somewhere with sunsets, piña coladas, barbecue, and dancing.

    A vacation to stop complaining about my life…”

    But I sighed.

    “Lately, all I see are the things that are missing.

    So I booked this trip to escape.

    And instead

    I found perspective.”

    He nodded. And then he said:

    “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

    Philippians 4:11–13

    Goosebumps.

    He walked away.

    I scooped Oishi, knelt by the sand, and prayed.

    “God… I’m sorry.

    For letting petty things blur the bigger picture.

    For complaining about things others are still praying for.”

    Life is like a pingpong ball.

    You get thrown in all directions.

    Sometimes up.

    Sometimes down.

    You can be bitter about it—

    Or laugh about it.

    Either way…

    Life will happen.

    And from now on

    I choose to live with love, laughter, and gratitude.

    With my furball by my side.

    Still Rising. Still Barking. 🐾

  • Creation and One Reluctant Sunday School Teacher: Susan’s Genesis Crisis

    Narrator: Oishi
    (Seriously, I’m tired. I’m a dog. But here we are.)

    It was Saturday night. Susan and I were chillin’ — karaoke, snacks, general chaos. Then came the knock. Brenda stood there… holding a Bible.

    Susan blinked. “You must be lost. This is our house, not a church.”

    Brenda walked in anyway.

    She said she had to leave town urgently and needed someone to substitute as Sunday School teacher. She wanted Susan to cover for her.

    I almost choked. Poor children. Susan doesn’t even read the Bible. One time, she thought Leviticus was Pete’s replacement.

    Susan nearly dropped her siopao and began melodramatically stomping around, reciting a full roll call of coworkers who’d be better choices.

    Brenda, unfazed, said, “You’re literally the last person I asked.”

    Susan (rude) mentally noted that, but kept listening. Everyone else was out of town. And Brenda knew Susan was just going to drag me to the park and inhale siopao and milk tea.

    With full drama, Susan stared at the ceiling.
    “I’ll do it… for the Lord.
    I’ll do it… for you.
    I’ll do it… for Oishi.
    I’ll do it for the economy.”

    Brenda hugged her and handed over the topic: The Story of Creation.

    Susan scooped me up, stared deeply into my soul (her face looked unusually close), and whispered:

    “Badoodle. Prepare yourself.
    We are entering uncharted territory.
    We are built for this.
    Yeah. We are built for this.”

    She took a swig of hot matcha, held a siopao in her other hand, sat down, and Googled:

    “Tell me how the world is created, if possible step-by-step because I need to teach little humans.”

    Somehow, she found it.

    Genesis 1: In the beginning God created the sky and the earth…

    She read all the way to Genesis 30.

    Then she looked at me — half in awe, half in shock.
    “Oishi… God made everything out of nothing. He made dirt… beautiful. He made life. He made you. He made me.”
    (She said that while hugging me like I was a stuffed animal she forgot to give back.)

    She kept reading:

    “Look, I have given you all the plants that have grain for seeds…”

    And she paused.

    “He didn’t just create, Oishi… He provided.”

    Sunday morning:
    Susan woke up early.
    Ironed a white dress. I didn’t even know she owned one.
    She had her hair down. That was new.

    She scooped me up, tied on my red bandana, and said,
    “Oishi, we are going to church. Behave.”

    (I wanted to say you should be the one hearing that — but I let it slide.)

    The church was warm and bright. People were smiling. The piano music made everything feel… soft. Sacred.

    Then I looked over and saw Susan… yawning.
    Classic.

    After the mass, we headed to the kids’ classroom.

    And Susan began to teach.

    ✍️ Writer’s Note
    Sometimes we get so caught up in work, media, and scrolling that we forget to look around.
    To notice the sky. The trees. The siopao we didn’t deserve.
    God didn’t just make us — He provides for us.

    Let’s not forget how wildly good our Creator is.

    From the hearts of Susan & Oishi —
    🐾 Still rising. Still barking.