It was a hot afternoon in Barangay San Juan, Pampanga. But the battle inside the Rueda de San Fernando was even hotter. It was filled with cigarette smoke, the shouting of the Christians, and the flying of feathers.

In one corner, Mang Temyong was in a state of panic. He was holding his cockfighting cock, “General Bato,” a red and black Texas. Temyong had stolen the P5,000 hidden under his wife’s arinola to bet on Sultana 4.

“Come on, General,” Temyong whispered to the cock. “If you lose, we’ll both be dead to the Commander.”

The shouting had begun. “There! There! There! There!”

The two cocks were now in the middle of the rueda. Ready to be released. The Sentensyador had his hand raised.

Suddenly…

BLAG!!!

The iron gate of the cockpit burst open. The force of the impact knocked the gatekeeper’s dentures off.

A thick dust settled and a figure that all the men in the barangay feared emerged: Aling Bebang.

Wearing a floral duster, with curlers in his hair, and in his right hand he held a giant ladle. In his left hand, he carried a large bayong and a cauldron.

The world stopped in the cockpit. The Christians fell silent. Only the roosters could be heard crowing.

“TEMYONG!” Bebang’s voice boomed. “PUT OUT MY GROCERY MONEY!”

Temyong turned pale. He hid behind the referee. “A-There’s the Commander! Please, hide me!”

But Bebang’s eyes were sharp. He saw Temyong. Everyone thought he was going to attack his wife and hit her in the head with a ladle. Temyong was ready to run.

But everyone was shocked when Bebang passed Temyong. His glaring eyes were fixed on General Bato, the chicken.

“You!” Bebang pointed at the chicken. “You’re the culprit! You’re the reason there’s no food in the house! You’re the hooker who’s eating up my wife’s salary! Your vitamins and shampoo are more expensive than my children!”

Bebang raised the ladle. “Now, your happy days are over! I’ll make you a TINOLA!”

There was chaos!

General Bato (the chicken) ran around the wheel. Bebang chased him while waving the ladle.

SWISH! SWISH!

“Don’t run from your destiny!” Bebang shouted.

The sabungeros panicked.

“Run! Temyong’s wife is eating chicken!”

The Christians jumped over the fence. The others climbed onto the bleachers. The referee hid under the table. This was the first time the main event was not chicken-to-chicken, but Wife-to-Chicken.

Because Bebang was used to cooking, he moved quickly. In the middle of the round, he pulled out a portable butane stove from his bag. Click! The fire was on. He put the pot on.

He took out oil, garlic, onion, and ginger.

While he chased the chicken with one hand, he stirred with the other.

GISA! HABOL! GISA! HABOL!

“Temyong! Catch your chicken if you don’t want me to cook you!” Bebang threatened.

Out of fear, Temyong himself went down to catch General Bato. “Sorry General… we have no choice… I’m hungry too.”

The chicken was caught. (Of course, since our story is PG-rated, let’s fast forward to the cooking).

Page: SAY – Story Around You | Original story.

An hour later.

There was no more betting. No more shouting “Meron o Wala”. All that could be heard was the slurping of the soup.

SLURP… AHHHH…

The entire cockpit smelled of Tinola with sayote and chili leaves (which Bebang also brought in his bag).

The hangouts, the promoter, the Kristos, and even the police who were supposed to respond to the trouble, were all lined up with Aling Bebang. They were holding plastic cups and rice.

“This is delicious, Mrs. Bebang!” said the Mayor of the cockpit while sipping the soup. “It tastes like winning! It’s really delicious when Texas is used!”

“Of course!” Bebang replied, sweating but smiling as he scooped it. “That’s right, if you don’t want your pets to be pickled, go home to your wives!”

Meanwhile, on a pole in the middle of the cockpit, there was a man tied with a rope.

Mang Temyong.

He was tied while watching other people eat his favorite chicken. There was a cardboard hanging around his neck that read:

“DON’T BE IMITATED. GROCERY MONEY WAS MOVED. UNDER ME.”

“Bebang… please ask for some soup… even just a neck…” Temyong pleaded.

Bebang approached him. Temyong thought he would give it to him. But Bebang just handed him a piece of raw sayote.

“There, eat it. That’s your prize for lying,” Bebang snarled.

The day ended with the entire barangay full, except for Temyong. From then on, no one dared to bring chicken when they saw Aling Bebang walking down the street with a ladle.

And the Rueda de San Fernando? They changed the name. Now, it’s “Bebang’s Tinola House & Cockpit Arena”—where the loser goes straight to the pot. 🍲😌