Chapter 3: COMICS CREATORS!? NO, COMICS GODS!
I would like to introduce you to my friend, Juan Tabagwang. You already met him twice. Anyway, my friend and I talk about a lot of things. Sometimes we also talk about "nonsense" just to entertain ourselves. Now, let me share to you one of our most recent "empty talks."

When we were in a tavern, we drank three big bottles of "agua de pataranta," a drink. As usual, my friend poured the "agua de pataranta" into his glass and emptied its contents in the blink of an eye. He poured one after the other. After chugging the last one, he lets out a Tarzan-like cry, "AAAAGH!!" Everyone in the tavern were distracted from their drinking and looked at him. We ignored them.

I turned toward Juan and asked him, "Tastes terrible, huh?"

"Y-yep!" he answered. "T-this drink is going to kill us someday."

But the effect of the drink gave him the courage to show, again, his published drawing to me and brag about it.

"Look!" he excitedly said as he pointed to something on his drawing. "The publisher gave me credit as a comic creator!" And he proudly added, "Isn't that something!?"

"Comic creator!?" I asked as I looked at him through the corner of my eye with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, comic creator!" he answered, with emphasis.

"Comic creator!" I said. Then I asked, "You want to hear an idea of mine that has something to do with comic creator?"

Though still dizzy from the effect of the "agua de pataranta," he said, "Okay, blurt it out!" He then reclined in his chair and pushed it away from the table.

"You know Kubita?" I asked.

"That's toilet. You know that I know what that means," he answered with a bit of annoyance. "What's the big deal about it?"

"Well...it is somehow indirectly related to comic creator."

My answer aroused his interest. He moved closer to the table to hear more of what I was going to say.

"The word 'kubita' is not a nice word to hear," I said. "So, it was changed to 'toilet'. Still not good, so it changed to 'men's or women's room'. It still doesn't sound right, so it was then changed to 'comfort room' and then 'lounging room'. Now it's just perfect. But really, what's the difference? Even the word 'janitor' was changed to 'building custodian', then 'building manager,' and finally 'building executive.’ Again, what's the difference? Both 'lounging room' and 'building executive' sound great; whereas, 'kubita' and 'janitor' aren't nice to hear. But, respectively, their meanings are the same."

"Similar reasoning applies to comics," I continued. "The word 'drawer' sounds naive and dreary. ‘Inker' is messy. 'Penciller' sounds rough. 'Comic artist' is educated. 'Comic illustrator' is sophisticated. 'Comic designer' sounds great and fantastic. But, 'comic creator' is tickling to the ears and egos. If it is reduced to 'creator', it is spine-tingling. But what's the difference between all those words? Nothing! Everything is about complicated words and egos. Once things are simplified, there is really nothing there. Same thing goes for 'comic creator'. Once you simplify it, it boils down to the word, drawer."

"So, you and I are drawers?" my friend asked.

"Yes!" I answered.

"What if I hire someone to work for me?" my friend jestingly asked me once more.

"You are not a drawer anymore." I smiled at him and then said, "Now you are a master of the drawers."

Then we laughed at ourselves. The others drunks around us curiously looked at us, distracted by our laughter. We turned to them and raised our glasses of "agua de pataranta."

"Toast with us, my friends!" I said. "We are the drawers laughing at ourselves."

They toasted their drinks with us and in chorus they said, "A toast to you and all the drawers of the world!"

The whole tavern erupted with laughter. As it started to die down, my friend looked at me with excited eyes, and said, "But I really like the word 'creator'. It sounds like something great."

"If you want to go all out why not, 'comic god' or 'god' simply," I jestingly remarked.

"Omigosh, that's too much already!" my friend said. "It's getting scary! I'd rather stick to drawer. But since it sounds so dreary, I'll settle for creator."

"Right you are, my friend Juan," I said. "But the master of the drawers is also the master of the creators. Or, if you settle for god, then the master will be the master of the gods."

"Now we are going into a foolish discussion," my friend said, as he scratched his head. Then he looked at the bottle of "agua de pataranta." "Amazing," he exclaimed, "how this drink affects our minds! And we came up with all that nonsense about comic creator."

We drank the last drop of "agua de pataranta" from our glasses and exited the tavern. Along the dark street our out of tune singing could be heard, accompanied by the howling of dogs and the meowing of cats.

"We are the drawers, comic creators, and comic gods of the world. Sing with us! La, la, la ..."

Out of nowhere, we heard, "Shut up!!!"