They named him Dumi. I have no problem these little smart-ass brats would call my second- hand car Dumi. My classmate-friends were just creatively candid—I pointed to them a dusty, silvery, freshly-out-of-talyer Lancer and in just seconds they all agreed to call him “Dumi”. Funny and memorable, only if you really know where and why it was named so (Tom spotted Kim, Camille got reassured she really was a girl and Apple kept wondering if the Baguio guy has gone to this kind of place).Just the same, the next day, I treated Dumi a seventy-peso shower and a vacuum of his smelly gut. I went to school to hand out cum laude (clap! clap!) Camille her list of prospect employer ad-agencies. Before she could introduce me to her mom and biological (her emphasis) sisters, she introduced them first to Dumi. Brat girl. She named her lumot-green Honda “Finding” and a friend’s car that’s regularly parked beside her “Nemo”. So, shall we name Prof. Ethics' car “Fatal” and his bestfriend’s car “Attraction?” Hmmm… "Chocolate" and "Kiss" just sounds better.
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