Stories Of My Father (4/10)

Like many fathers, Papa told bedtime stories to Kriska, our youngest. For some reason, he only did that with her. Pfffft. She was the baby in the family, having been born twelve years after Beks was. He was the one who named her, after Juan Ponce Enrile's daughter. He did not know JPE's  daughter personally, but he liked the sound of the name. 'KringKring', her nickname was after Kring Kring Gonzales, another 'ST Queen' at that time when bold movies were just dancing and showing a bit of flesh. 

So anyway, since we were 'deprived' of these bedtime stories, Beks and I sat in when he told them to Kring. Papa did not read any fairy tales from books, he 'invented' his own characters and thought of the storyline while at it. Almost always, a monster was in the cast of characters, not really to teach Kriska the difference between fairies and monsters, (you know, good versus evil stuff) but he just actually wanted to scare her until she cries. Of course any kid would; the stories Papa made up always ended with the monster eating Kriska alive.

One time, we were all again on the bed, listening to one of Papa's stories. Kriska, milk bottle in hand, was quietly sucking away and intently listening. Papa's story was about to end. Kriska let go of the rubber nipple tightly wedged between her lips, took a deep breath and said: 'Papa, hindi ako kakainin ng monster ha?'