trese: The Choir Story by Budjette Tan Art by Elbert Or Hank had tended the bar of The Diabolical long enough to know that the one who just entered was another troubled soul. The typical patron of The Diabolical were the goth-girls and the vampire wanna-bes who dressed in leather and velvet despite the tropical weather of Manila. There were also the 24-hour party people, who danced to the ever-escalating electronic beats in the clubs next door, but who slipped into The Diabolical because their beer was cheaper. So, when the man in the denim jacket entered place and didn’t fit into the usual profile, Hank knew this was someone in a bad need of a drink. The man unbuttoned his jacket as he took three steps down to the main floor of the club. Before he could even reach the bar, Hank had already prepared a shot glass, poured the tequila and set the salt and lemon on a little plate. He then reached into the cooler, past the sea of ice cubes for a bottle of San Mig Light. The man sat on the
The rants and raves of a copy/comic book/writer in Manila.