My Name is Pedro

I shook off the dwende who grabbed my arm, his mouth poised to take a bite. I wanted to resolve the situation peacefully, but he came out of nowhere. To make matters worse, I threw him much harder than I intended. The naked little man shot across the sky like a fiery ball launched from a catapult, his screams piercing the afternoon quiet.

Oh, well.

The flying dwende's brother ran at me with a battle cry. Something about my mother being a female dog.

He probably wasn't too smart. Everyone knew my kind, the Tikbalang, were part horse, not dog. The dwende waved his stubby arms in the air, hands balled in fists. He would have reached me faster, had he stood taller than two feet.

I didn't want to fight. I've had enough trouble with humans and other magical creatures over the past seven hundred years. This guy needed to realize I meant no harm, and I was open for compromise.

I descended onto the lowest root of the Balete tree, folding my limbs in a squat. It wasn't easy. My knees reached above my head, and I had hooves instead of toes. I had legs and the torso of a man, but my head was of a horse's. Most of the time, I didn't have trouble with my unusual physique. But it did pose a problem whenever I tried to make myself less intimidating.

I raised my hands in surrender, but the dwende ran straight into my palm, face first.

“Ow!” The dwende clutched his nose, jumping around in circles.

“Sorry!”

“Whatever, dude. This will cost me a lot of magic juice to fix!”

“I'm sorry,” I repeated and reached out to the dwende.

“Stay away from me, tikbalang!”

I frowned. “What's your problem?”

“My problem?” The dwende’s voice rose an octave higher. “You're invading our Balete tree. You threw my brother into oblivion. And you're asking me what's my problem?”

“I'm not invading! I was hoping we could share. It's a big tree, after all. And your brother's fine. He landed in an empty lot in the next village.”

The dwende steadied himself. He was right. His nose was red and bent at a strange angle. “Look, you're different from most tikbalangs I've met. Even with your weird, blond horse-color—”

“Palomino. My coat is palomino.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that's not my point. You might be nice and all, but thing is, you're still a tikbalang. I'm a dwende. Our kind don't get along, let alone share a tree for the rest of our immortal lives. It just can't work, dude.”

“Why not?” I held out my hand for him to shake. “My name is Pedro, by the way.”

“Nino,” said the dwende. His right arm jerked, but he didn't take my hand. “What kind of name is Pedro?”

“Speak for yourself. Nino the Nuno. Seriously?”

Nino scowled. “Do you see any anthills anywhere? Nuno sa Punso is the Old Man of the Mound, you racist. I'm a White Dwarf. I live in trees,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Like this one! I live here, and you're trying to steal it from me.”

“I thought we already established I'm not trying to steal your home?”

Nino rolled his eyes again and sighed. “You know what? You can have this tree. My brother and I were moving anyway.”

“I can?”

“See that sign over there?” Nino pointed to a piece of wood attached to a stake. “It says, this land is sold. A human is going to build his house here. This Balete tree? You'd be lucky if you can salvage enough for a stool.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Nino already turned around. “You're in the city now, Mountain boy. Here, they don't respect trees like they used to.” The dwende bent over, giving me a perfect view of his blackened, naked behind.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed, covering my eyes. “Don't you ever wipe after you poop?”

The dwende looked over his shoulder to scowl at me. “Says the tikbalang who lets his privates plow the ground. Spare me the hygiene lecture, dude. Just toss me where you threw my brother.”

“I said it was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it. My knees are killing me.”

“Fine,” I said. I took the dwarf by the scruff of his neck and lifted him off the ground. “See you around, Nino.”

“I hope not, Tikbalang.”

I threw the dwende hard, making sure he landed three houses away from where his brother was. “It's Pedro, not Tikbalang. Ugly little oaf.”

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"My Name is Pedro" is part of the Anything Goes Anthology, a multi-national, multi-genre anthology published by the Fiction Writers Group. You can get the full story, as well as other delightful short stories, in ebook or paperback: amzn.to/1ui0y66