The Chicharon Catastrophe: A Cebuano Tooth Tale

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The sun was high over Carcar City, and the scent of sizzling pork skin filled the air. I had just bought a steaming bag of Carcar’s famous chicharon—golden, crispy, and glistening with sinful deliciousness. My stomach growled in approval as I climbed back into the car, ready for the ultimate snack attack.

First bite. Crunch. Heaven.

Second bite. CRACK.

A sharp pain shot through my mouth. My brain short-circuited. Did I just bite a rock disguised as chicharon? I spat out the offending piece, only to see—two of my front teeth had cracked right down the middle!

I froze. My reflection in the rearview mirror confirmed the horror: I now had a hillbilly smile.

The Desperate Dental Escape

My friend, Jomar, was in the driver’s seat, blissfully unaware of my dental doom. If he found out, he’d laugh so hard he’d crash the car. I couldn’t let that happen.

I kept my lips sealed—literally—as I frantically searched for dentists nearby. "Uh, Jomar, can we make a quick stop? I just remembered… I need to buy… uh… more chicharon?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Bro, you already have a whole bag."

"I need backup chicharon!" I insisted, voice muffled by my clamped mouth.

Luckily, we passed a "Dental Clinic - Open Now" sign. "WAIT! STOP! I NEED TO PEE!" I blurted.

Jomar slammed the brakes. "In a dental clinic?"

"Emergency pee!" I bolted inside before he could argue.

The Dentist’s Judgment

The dentist, Dr. Lira, took one look at my teeth and sighed. "Chicharon?"

I nodded miserably.

"Classic." She shook her head. "You’re the third one this week."

Turns out, I wasn’t the first victim of Carcar’s crunchy betrayal. She fixed my teeth with a temporary filling, but warned me: "If the damage is deep, you might need a dental crown or even an implant."

The Walk of Shame

As I walked back to the car, Jomar squinted at me. "Why are you smiling like a shy goat?"

"No reason," I mumbled, lips tight.

He grinned. "Wait… Did you just—"

"DON’T SAY IT."

But it was too late. He burst out laughing. "BRO, YOU LOOK LIKE A VAMPIRE WHO BIT A GARLIC CHICHARON!"

The Lesson Learned

From that day on, I swore off chicharon… for a whole 24 hours. (Hey, I’m only human.) But now, I chew very carefully—and always check for hidden rocks.

And as for Jomar? He still brings it up every time we pass Carcar.

Moral of the story? Even the tastiest crunch can come with a crack—and a lifetime of teasing. 


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