[fanfiction] Piri is a mild drinker
I'm not sure if someone already thought of something like this.. but, if somebody else did, consider it another version of the story! :D I had this idea when I was drinking at my mates' house.
Title: Philippines is a Mild Drinker
Characters: Philippines (Female), America, American Soldiers, Piri's Filipino neighbors, Datu the Carabao, Japan (in absentia)
Pairings: None!! (but hints of AmericaxPiri at the end XDDD)
Genre: Parody
Warnings: PG to R, OCs, alcohol, and an unsightly America, slight romance, some profanities at the end......
Summary: Post ww2 and America came over to help Piri clean up her place... but ends up in a drinking spree. ^~, A retelling of the Philippine classic "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" by Alejandro Roces.
~o~o~o~o~
It was 1945.
The war was over, and America had returned to Philippines' house to help her clean the mess that Japan had made. As ordered by his boss, America built a base near her residence for convenience. As a result, it was common to see American GIs running about, talking and making friends with the locals.
On a hot summer day, Philippines was plowing their barrio's rice field with her trusty carabao. She was barefooted, her sleeves raised baring her arms while her skirt had gotten dirty from the mud. She wore her Salakot to protect her from the cruel sun's heat.
America was walking on the road, a gun at his back and ready for action just in case, when he saw Philippines. He called out to her and yelled, "Howdy there li'l miss!" Philippines looked back to the sound of his voice. He waved at her enthusiastically causing her to smile and wave back softly in return.
She was happy to see America. She wasn't glad to see America because he was American, but because he wasn't Japan.
America went towards her with all smiles, despite his difficulty in walking in the mud. Seeing his enthusiast, she removed her Salakot from her head as it seemed impolite to wear it while America suffered from the heat of the setting sun.
"Good Afternoon Mr. America" Philippines said.
"Hello, my little brown sister!" America said, patting her on the head. "You're as polite as ever, aren't you?"
She noticed the half filled Whiskey bottle on America's waist. It seemed that those whiskey bottles were part of the American uniform, and America was no exception.
"Sorry there's no bars here" She said.
America looked disappointed for a moment, but regained his cheerfulness in a second, "Aw, too bad. I've been running around this place the whole day. Do you know where I can buy some more whiskey? oh, here, have a drink, you've been working hard," He offered the half filled bottle to Philippines
"No thank you, Mr. America. I'm a mild drinker."
"I guess, since you're a lady... but well, don't you drink at all?"
"Yes, I drink, Mr. America. But I'm not fond of whiskey."
"Then what do you drink?"
"I drink Lambanog"
"Jungle juice, huh?"
"I suppose most GIs call it that."
"You know where I could buy some?"
"I have some at my hut, but I don't think you'd like it."
"Nah, don't worry, I'd like it! I've drank everything, vodka, whiskey, brandy,
tequila, beer, gin, champagne, saki (sake), rum, wine. . ."America went on with a list of drinks that Philippines couldn't spell. "When I was at France house, I drank Channel no. 5. When I was down at the hospital, I made do with some medical alcohol. On the way here, I got stoned from torpedo juice! You ain't kidding when you say I drink a lot. So let's just have some of that jungle juice you have"
Philippines sighed, "alright then. I'll just bring Datu to his mudhole before we go home" She unhitched Datu from the plow and led her to the mudhole. Splash, splash, Datu seemed contented in his hole.
"You sure love that animal, don't you" Said America
"Of course, he's my best friend. He does half my work."
"Why don't you just get two of them?"
Philippines remained silent. He wouldn't understand even if she explained.
Datu splashed some more, his tail swatting the flies and insects that had gotten on him. With him contented, the two headed back to Philippines' hut. When they reached her garden, America kept looking around.
"Your garden is so big! there's a forest of coconut trees! "
"I have more plants other than coconut trees, Mr. America. Don't you have them at your house?"
"No, all I have are pine trees"
"What are they like?"
"They're tall and shoot up to the sky, like the skyscrapers of New York! It reminds me of me!"
"Well, the tree that reminds me most of myself is the Coconut tree. It starts towards the sky but it leaves sway down as if remembering the land that gave it birth. It does not forget the soil that gave it birth."
Soon they reached Philippines' Nipa house. Before they went inside, Philippines detoured to picked a few Calamansi fruit at the shrub growing at the base of her hut.
"What's that?" America asked curiously.
"Philippine Lemon" Philippines said, not really sure what to say. She hand America a the first batch before taking a few more, "We'll need it for our drinks"
"Ah! Chasers!"
"I suppose that's what the GIs call them"
Philippines took the ladder from behind the Jasmine shrub and propped it in its proper place. Before they climbed, she washed the mud from her legs, slippers and the hem of her skirt with the garden deep well, and helped America wash as well. Before she climbed, she took off her slippers, causing America to do the same. She appreciated that, since it was bothersome to clean the floors again.
"Go on, have a seat" She offered America as soon as they got inside.
"Er, where?"
She pointed at the floor and replied, "Right there by the table. The floor is clean, don't worry."
She took the calamansi from America, using her skirt as a basket and went to her kitchen to slice the Calamansi in halves. She took some rock salt, placed them in a bowl, and laid that and the calamansi on the table. She returned back to the kitchen and took a bamboo tube where she kept her Lambanog, and a couple of polished coconut shells she used for drinking
She doesn't really drink it that much, as drinking alone is lonely. She kept a lot of Lambanog in cases of snake bites, as an insecticide for Datu and to keep chills away just in case she gets malaria.
She poured the Lambanog on the two coconut shells and handed one to America. She took America's Whiskey and diluted her Lambanog with it. It became milky.
The two were seated on the floor. Philippines poured a portion of her drink on the floor where it slithered through the gaps and down to the soil.
"Hey! what are you doing, wasting good liquor!" America scolded her.
"Offering it to the devil" She said. When America gave her a peculiar look, she laughed and explained, "No, just kidding. It's a custom here to return a little of what we took from the earth"
"Well," America went on with his cheerful way, raising his shell, "Here's to the end of the war!"
"To the end of the war" Philippines replied. She gulped her drink and followed it with a slice of calamansi dipped in salt. She noticed that America reacted in a peculiar manner. His eyes widened and a flush crept on his cheeks. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt
"Quick, give me a chaser!" He said. Philippines handed him a slice dipped in salt. He squeezed it to his mouth but it seemed that it did nothing to alleviate America's distress.
"What's wrong Mr. America?" She asked.
"No, nothing." He took off his bomber jacket and rolled up his sleeve. "The first drink usually acts like a mine sweeper. The second one wouldn't be as harsh" He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Then he pocketed them.
Philippines poured the shells another shot. She noticed a panting America was perspiring like he had just run around in his bomber jacket the around the barrio twice. He continued to unbutton his shirt and as that did nothing, he simply took the thing off.
Seeing the person she idolized becoming so unsightly, she averted her eyes and focused on her work. She set the shell in front of America. Again she diluted hers with the whiskey then lifted her drink, "Here's to Mr. America" She said, coyly, trying to be a good host. America gave her a smile and lifted his drink in response. The two gulped their drink.
Again, America reacted in a peculiar manner. His face was completely flushed, perspiration visible, soaking his whole body. He used his shirt to wipe his face, chest and back. His panting was more audible than before. He laid on the floor, spread eagled, as he panted away.
"What's wrong Mr. America?" Philippines asked once again, doing her best to be a good host.
"A lot!" America replied. Philippines winced thinking there was something wrong from her.
America took a deep breath and exhaled. Seeing Philippines getting nervous, he did his best to compose himself despite how he looked.
"W-would you like another drink, sir?" She offered, "It is what we came here for, after all"
"No thanks" America said. Seeing Philippines winced once again, he sat right up and slapped himself, "Well, okay. Maybe just one more."
Philippines poured another to their shells and handed America his drink. She took the whiskey once again and diluted hers with it.
"Here's to Philippines" America said with a wink.
Seeing America alright once again, it cheered Philippines up. She took a gulp of her drink while America watched her and drank half of his.
"This stuff must be radioactive!" America said, his voice was implanted with a slur. He threw the coconut shell with its half filled lambanog sharply to the wall and screamed, "BURN GODDAMMIT!! BURN!"
Witnessing all this, Philippines looked at him nervously, being reminded of that time when Japan barged inside her house. She prayed it wouldn't turn that way.
It didn't America suddenly passed out. It was lucky for him that she caught him just in time. Philippines was a bit disappointed, as she was just getting in the mood for a drink. Instead, she had a wet sweaty Mr. America knocked out on her lap.
She reached out for the bamboo tube and took a swig. Truly it was disappointing. She took another shot for strength and put the thing down and tried to carry America herself. With the height and weight difference, it was an impossible task.
Her actions stirred up the sleeping America.
"Are you alright, Mr. America?"
"Fuck! Wha the hell are ya doin 'ere, Japan?!" America snapped. His face was still red as a tomato. He snapped. He pushed Philippines away from him, causing her to stumble to the floor and him on the opposite direction. He quickly stood up and towered over her.
"I'm not Mr. Japan, Mr. America." Philippines said, rubbing her bottom, "He's not here anymore"
"Aw, shut it you little punk. I wouldn't forget what you fuckin' did back at Pearl Harbor! Aw hell, maybe I fuckin' will if you give me enough Saki (sake) and some Geisha"
"Mr. America, really, it's me Philippines"
"Wha-?" America bowed a bit to take a closer look, "Oh, yeah, it is you, Philippines! You look pretty in a kimono" he looked at her up and down, "Yep, verrry pert-ty: Oh look,your robe's wet. you ought to remove it before you catch 'em Malaria" He knelt down and lifted her skirt and tugged. "Allow yer older brother to take it off fer ya! Or maybe ya juz doin this to seduce me? well, i don' fuckin mind! no need to act coy"
Philippines stared in horror as her adored Mr. America pinned her down and started undoing his belt. It was just like that time when Japan came over. She knew it was just the alcohol running over America's head, so she punched him as hard as she could and screamed so her neighbors could hear her.
She managed to knock America off of her but he decided to give her a good chase. She ran out to her garden, screaming. The men around her place heard her and seeing America chasing her they intervened to save her. All that running made the alcohol run over his head again, hence when Datu who had been loitering before going back to Philippines' place, America ran into him and knocked himself out, to the relief of Philippines' neighbors. They knew they can't bring down America.
Since the soldiers had to be back in camp at a certain hour, the villagers and Philippines brought America back using a cart, so he wouldn't get into trouble from his boss. Philippines made sure that America get to his bunk safely, while handing his clothes to his fellow soldiers. Just as she was returning back, one soldier winked at her and said, "Why don't you have a beer before you go?"
Philippines just smiled and said, "no thank you. I'm a mild drinker"
End.
Foot Notes:
*I made Philippines' house like the houses in the provinces, with HUGE gardens and a small house.
** the national tree of US is the oak tree, btw, not the pine trees.
*** Yeah, it's a custom to pour the first shot to the ground. In some areas, they say, it's an offering for the devil so he wouldn't cause trouble. What Philippines said is more poetic, and what was on the original explanation in Roces' story. Besides, it's unladylike for her to seriously explain that it's for the devil
**** ok, nerd mode! Malaria's is transmitted through bites of Aedes Anopheles mosquitoes. Do you know that the Philippines is the home of the worst and deadliest strain of malaria? =3 It's just a parody from that old news, where a famous person (I forgot his line of work) who brought his child in the US. They gave a child a blood transfusion, a hemodialysis etc, and it ended up with the child dying. My professor (who worked at san lazaro hospital) said that him and his fellow doctors laughed at it. Moral, you're better off trusting a Filipino Doctor if its malaria.
***** It's quite disappointing that most of the short story in the net didn't include the part where Joe started hallucinating and thought the narrator's mother was a geisha and chased her around town and was lucky he received minor injuries from the carabao (to what I remember). maybe cause it's a bit
I decided to keep the third person point of view, instead of Roces' first POV. I want this to be more Hetalia than a literature. btw, the title of the original story is called "We Filipinos are mild drinkers" if you've never heard of that or never read that, search it in the net!
If anybody wrote an APH retelling of this tale, or planning to write one, please share it! I love this short story as much as I I love APH!
Title: Philippines is a Mild Drinker
Characters: Philippines (Female), America, American Soldiers, Piri's Filipino neighbors, Datu the Carabao, Japan (in absentia)
Pairings: None!! (but hints of AmericaxPiri at the end XDDD)
Genre: Parody
Warnings: PG to R, OCs, alcohol, and an unsightly America, slight romance, some profanities at the end......
Summary: Post ww2 and America came over to help Piri clean up her place... but ends up in a drinking spree. ^~, A retelling of the Philippine classic "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" by Alejandro Roces.
~o~o~o~o~
It was 1945.
The war was over, and America had returned to Philippines' house to help her clean the mess that Japan had made. As ordered by his boss, America built a base near her residence for convenience. As a result, it was common to see American GIs running about, talking and making friends with the locals.
On a hot summer day, Philippines was plowing their barrio's rice field with her trusty carabao. She was barefooted, her sleeves raised baring her arms while her skirt had gotten dirty from the mud. She wore her Salakot to protect her from the cruel sun's heat.
America was walking on the road, a gun at his back and ready for action just in case, when he saw Philippines. He called out to her and yelled, "Howdy there li'l miss!" Philippines looked back to the sound of his voice. He waved at her enthusiastically causing her to smile and wave back softly in return.
She was happy to see America. She wasn't glad to see America because he was American, but because he wasn't Japan.
America went towards her with all smiles, despite his difficulty in walking in the mud. Seeing his enthusiast, she removed her Salakot from her head as it seemed impolite to wear it while America suffered from the heat of the setting sun.
"Good Afternoon Mr. America" Philippines said.
"Hello, my little brown sister!" America said, patting her on the head. "You're as polite as ever, aren't you?"
She noticed the half filled Whiskey bottle on America's waist. It seemed that those whiskey bottles were part of the American uniform, and America was no exception.
"Sorry there's no bars here" She said.
America looked disappointed for a moment, but regained his cheerfulness in a second, "Aw, too bad. I've been running around this place the whole day. Do you know where I can buy some more whiskey? oh, here, have a drink, you've been working hard," He offered the half filled bottle to Philippines
"No thank you, Mr. America. I'm a mild drinker."
"I guess, since you're a lady... but well, don't you drink at all?"
"Yes, I drink, Mr. America. But I'm not fond of whiskey."
"Then what do you drink?"
"I drink Lambanog"
"Jungle juice, huh?"
"I suppose most GIs call it that."
"You know where I could buy some?"
"I have some at my hut, but I don't think you'd like it."
"Nah, don't worry, I'd like it! I've drank everything, vodka, whiskey, brandy,
tequila, beer, gin, champagne, saki (sake), rum, wine. . ."America went on with a list of drinks that Philippines couldn't spell. "When I was at France house, I drank Channel no. 5. When I was down at the hospital, I made do with some medical alcohol. On the way here, I got stoned from torpedo juice! You ain't kidding when you say I drink a lot. So let's just have some of that jungle juice you have"
Philippines sighed, "alright then. I'll just bring Datu to his mudhole before we go home" She unhitched Datu from the plow and led her to the mudhole. Splash, splash, Datu seemed contented in his hole.
"You sure love that animal, don't you" Said America
"Of course, he's my best friend. He does half my work."
"Why don't you just get two of them?"
Philippines remained silent. He wouldn't understand even if she explained.
Datu splashed some more, his tail swatting the flies and insects that had gotten on him. With him contented, the two headed back to Philippines' hut. When they reached her garden, America kept looking around.
"Your garden is so big! there's a forest of coconut trees! "
"I have more plants other than coconut trees, Mr. America. Don't you have them at your house?"
"No, all I have are pine trees"
"What are they like?"
"They're tall and shoot up to the sky, like the skyscrapers of New York! It reminds me of me!"
"Well, the tree that reminds me most of myself is the Coconut tree. It starts towards the sky but it leaves sway down as if remembering the land that gave it birth. It does not forget the soil that gave it birth."
Soon they reached Philippines' Nipa house. Before they went inside, Philippines detoured to picked a few Calamansi fruit at the shrub growing at the base of her hut.
"What's that?" America asked curiously.
"Philippine Lemon" Philippines said, not really sure what to say. She hand America a the first batch before taking a few more, "We'll need it for our drinks"
"Ah! Chasers!"
"I suppose that's what the GIs call them"
Philippines took the ladder from behind the Jasmine shrub and propped it in its proper place. Before they climbed, she washed the mud from her legs, slippers and the hem of her skirt with the garden deep well, and helped America wash as well. Before she climbed, she took off her slippers, causing America to do the same. She appreciated that, since it was bothersome to clean the floors again.
"Go on, have a seat" She offered America as soon as they got inside.
"Er, where?"
She pointed at the floor and replied, "Right there by the table. The floor is clean, don't worry."
She took the calamansi from America, using her skirt as a basket and went to her kitchen to slice the Calamansi in halves. She took some rock salt, placed them in a bowl, and laid that and the calamansi on the table. She returned back to the kitchen and took a bamboo tube where she kept her Lambanog, and a couple of polished coconut shells she used for drinking
She doesn't really drink it that much, as drinking alone is lonely. She kept a lot of Lambanog in cases of snake bites, as an insecticide for Datu and to keep chills away just in case she gets malaria.
She poured the Lambanog on the two coconut shells and handed one to America. She took America's Whiskey and diluted her Lambanog with it. It became milky.
The two were seated on the floor. Philippines poured a portion of her drink on the floor where it slithered through the gaps and down to the soil.
"Hey! what are you doing, wasting good liquor!" America scolded her.
"Offering it to the devil" She said. When America gave her a peculiar look, she laughed and explained, "No, just kidding. It's a custom here to return a little of what we took from the earth"
"Well," America went on with his cheerful way, raising his shell, "Here's to the end of the war!"
"To the end of the war" Philippines replied. She gulped her drink and followed it with a slice of calamansi dipped in salt. She noticed that America reacted in a peculiar manner. His eyes widened and a flush crept on his cheeks. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt
"Quick, give me a chaser!" He said. Philippines handed him a slice dipped in salt. He squeezed it to his mouth but it seemed that it did nothing to alleviate America's distress.
"What's wrong Mr. America?" She asked.
"No, nothing." He took off his bomber jacket and rolled up his sleeve. "The first drink usually acts like a mine sweeper. The second one wouldn't be as harsh" He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Then he pocketed them.
Philippines poured the shells another shot. She noticed a panting America was perspiring like he had just run around in his bomber jacket the around the barrio twice. He continued to unbutton his shirt and as that did nothing, he simply took the thing off.
Seeing the person she idolized becoming so unsightly, she averted her eyes and focused on her work. She set the shell in front of America. Again she diluted hers with the whiskey then lifted her drink, "Here's to Mr. America" She said, coyly, trying to be a good host. America gave her a smile and lifted his drink in response. The two gulped their drink.
Again, America reacted in a peculiar manner. His face was completely flushed, perspiration visible, soaking his whole body. He used his shirt to wipe his face, chest and back. His panting was more audible than before. He laid on the floor, spread eagled, as he panted away.
"What's wrong Mr. America?" Philippines asked once again, doing her best to be a good host.
"A lot!" America replied. Philippines winced thinking there was something wrong from her.
America took a deep breath and exhaled. Seeing Philippines getting nervous, he did his best to compose himself despite how he looked.
"W-would you like another drink, sir?" She offered, "It is what we came here for, after all"
"No thanks" America said. Seeing Philippines winced once again, he sat right up and slapped himself, "Well, okay. Maybe just one more."
Philippines poured another to their shells and handed America his drink. She took the whiskey once again and diluted hers with it.
"Here's to Philippines" America said with a wink.
Seeing America alright once again, it cheered Philippines up. She took a gulp of her drink while America watched her and drank half of his.
"This stuff must be radioactive!" America said, his voice was implanted with a slur. He threw the coconut shell with its half filled lambanog sharply to the wall and screamed, "BURN GODDAMMIT!! BURN!"
Witnessing all this, Philippines looked at him nervously, being reminded of that time when Japan barged inside her house. She prayed it wouldn't turn that way.
It didn't America suddenly passed out. It was lucky for him that she caught him just in time. Philippines was a bit disappointed, as she was just getting in the mood for a drink. Instead, she had a wet sweaty Mr. America knocked out on her lap.
She reached out for the bamboo tube and took a swig. Truly it was disappointing. She took another shot for strength and put the thing down and tried to carry America herself. With the height and weight difference, it was an impossible task.
Her actions stirred up the sleeping America.
"Are you alright, Mr. America?"
"Fuck! Wha the hell are ya doin 'ere, Japan?!" America snapped. His face was still red as a tomato. He snapped. He pushed Philippines away from him, causing her to stumble to the floor and him on the opposite direction. He quickly stood up and towered over her.
"I'm not Mr. Japan, Mr. America." Philippines said, rubbing her bottom, "He's not here anymore"
"Aw, shut it you little punk. I wouldn't forget what you fuckin' did back at Pearl Harbor! Aw hell, maybe I fuckin' will if you give me enough Saki (sake) and some Geisha"
"Mr. America, really, it's me Philippines"
"Wha-?" America bowed a bit to take a closer look, "Oh, yeah, it is you, Philippines! You look pretty in a kimono" he looked at her up and down, "Yep, verrry pert-ty: Oh look,your robe's wet. you ought to remove it before you catch 'em Malaria" He knelt down and lifted her skirt and tugged. "Allow yer older brother to take it off fer ya! Or maybe ya juz doin this to seduce me? well, i don' fuckin mind! no need to act coy"
Philippines stared in horror as her adored Mr. America pinned her down and started undoing his belt. It was just like that time when Japan came over. She knew it was just the alcohol running over America's head, so she punched him as hard as she could and screamed so her neighbors could hear her.
She managed to knock America off of her but he decided to give her a good chase. She ran out to her garden, screaming. The men around her place heard her and seeing America chasing her they intervened to save her. All that running made the alcohol run over his head again, hence when Datu who had been loitering before going back to Philippines' place, America ran into him and knocked himself out, to the relief of Philippines' neighbors. They knew they can't bring down America.
Since the soldiers had to be back in camp at a certain hour, the villagers and Philippines brought America back using a cart, so he wouldn't get into trouble from his boss. Philippines made sure that America get to his bunk safely, while handing his clothes to his fellow soldiers. Just as she was returning back, one soldier winked at her and said, "Why don't you have a beer before you go?"
Philippines just smiled and said, "no thank you. I'm a mild drinker"
End.
Foot Notes:
*I made Philippines' house like the houses in the provinces, with HUGE gardens and a small house.
** the national tree of US is the oak tree, btw, not the pine trees.
*** Yeah, it's a custom to pour the first shot to the ground. In some areas, they say, it's an offering for the devil so he wouldn't cause trouble. What Philippines said is more poetic, and what was on the original explanation in Roces' story. Besides, it's unladylike for her to seriously explain that it's for the devil
**** ok, nerd mode! Malaria's is transmitted through bites of Aedes Anopheles mosquitoes. Do you know that the Philippines is the home of the worst and deadliest strain of malaria? =3 It's just a parody from that old news, where a famous person (I forgot his line of work) who brought his child in the US. They gave a child a blood transfusion, a hemodialysis etc, and it ended up with the child dying. My professor (who worked at san lazaro hospital) said that him and his fellow doctors laughed at it. Moral, you're better off trusting a Filipino Doctor if its malaria.
***** It's quite disappointing that most of the short story in the net didn't include the part where Joe started hallucinating and thought the narrator's mother was a geisha and chased her around town and was lucky he received minor injuries from the carabao (to what I remember). maybe cause it's a bit
I decided to keep the third person point of view, instead of Roces' first POV. I want this to be more Hetalia than a literature. btw, the title of the original story is called "We Filipinos are mild drinkers" if you've never heard of that or never read that, search it in the net!
If anybody wrote an APH retelling of this tale, or planning to write one, please share it! I love this short story as much as I I love APH!