Say “tabi-tabi po” when passing anthills or balete trees to avoid angering spirits

Miguel: [walking along a quiet street lined with trees] O, wait, wait—slow down!
Jessa: Why? Did you drop something?
Miguel: No! We’re passing a balete tree. TABI-TABI PO!

Jessa: laughs Miguel, seriously? You do that every single time.
Miguel: Of course! You never know… spirits, dwarves, elementals. Better to be polite than haunted.
Jessa: I’ve passed this balete a hundred times. Zero hauntings. Not even a tiny dwarf sighting.

Miguel: That’s because I say “tabi-tabi po” for the both of us. You’re welcome.
Jessa: Wow, so I’ve been protected by your courtesy to imaginary neighbors all this time?
Miguel: Exactly! One time when I was a kid, I didn’t say it near an anthill, and boom—my knee got swollen the next day.
Jessa: Miguel… you tripped during patintero. I was there.
Miguel: But what if the spirits CAUSED the trip?
Jessa: What if you were just clumsy?

Miguel: You can joke, but my lola always warned us. She said her cousin got mysteriously sick after kicking an anthill.
Jessa: Lola stories are 80% wisdom, 20% horror anthology. But scientifically, anthills have ants. Kick one, and they’ll fight back. No spirits needed.

Miguel: Still… what if science just can’t explain everything?
Jessa: Sure, some things are mysterious. But that doesn’t mean supernatural beings are hanging out in every balete tree waiting to be offended.

Miguel: You don’t feel even a little scared passing by?
Jessa: Honestly? More scared of actual things—mosquitoes, stray dogs, and falling coconuts.
Miguel: laughs Fair enough. But don’t you ever think tradition keeps us humble? Saying “tabi-tabi po” is like being respectful to nature.
Jessa: That part I like. Being mindful, respectful, careful—that’s good. But thinking spirits will take revenge if you don’t say the magic phrase? That’s where I tap out.

Miguel: So you won’t say it? Not even once? For fun?
Jessa: Fine… TABI-TABI PO!
Miguel: See? Don’t you feel safer?
Jessa: I feel… exactly the same. But I’ll admit—it’s kind of fun watching you panic over invisible dwarves.
Miguel: Hey, those dwarves might be real.
Jessa: If they are, I hope they appreciate your dedication. You’d make a great ambassador to the spirit world.

Miguel: Maybe I already am.
Jessa: Then please tell them I said hi—and that I always leave room when passing by trees. Not because of spirits, but because your drama needs space.

Miguel: laughs Fair enough. But next time, can you let me say my “tabi-tabi po” in peace?
Jessa: Of course. Tradition or science—we can walk together. Just don’t blame me if you trip again.
Miguel: If I do, I’m blaming you AND the dwarves.
Jessa: Deal.