Tag Archives: Girls
“If you’d please…”
“If you’d please…”
“Sir, would you like to…”
“Akihabara’s newest maid cafe! Would you…”
23 people. She had counted them exactly, partially out of desperation and partially out of a need to keep score. Each one had rebuffed her without a single word. 1000 yen an hour and there she was freezing her thighs off in the middle of the night to an indifferent mob of nobodies she wouldn’t have spent a second glance looking in any other place. Good lord. What’s to do in this country? Graduation was still a year away and that PSP wasn’t going to buy itself!
“Hi there, would you..”
He took the flyer. Success. If only a small one.
“Thank you so much, would you like me esco-..?”
He walked on. The second part of the game was to get them into the store itself. That there was the trickiest part AND the best. To get them in meant that you could go back inside and let some other unlucky sap stand outside in the cold. God, she was ready to get back inside, serve some tea and get back at that Achika. Then she would be in the cold and would warm, sneaking bites of the fried chicken they had in the back room. Not to mention sneaking a sip of the draft beer. That would be all in good time, but for now…
“Would you like to…”
“Please, if you’d be so kind…”
When leaving Rome, keep the Roman in you. Not the part of Empires, pillaging then taxing the pillaged. No, no. That’s too barbaric and I fail to find the joy in that. No passion in destruction. My Rome is Mexico and in Mexico, the Romans dance salsa! It’s even easier to keep being Roman when you happen to be inside a Mexican dance salon. You’d have to be a soulless shell of a father to skip that day in a daughter’s life when she gets married. Not mention dead to turn down the opportunity to go to Prague with her friends from overseas for that event.
I have always loved the Asian mystique. Watching the movies of Kurosawa in my youth, I was entranced by Machiko Kyo’s eyes in Rashomon. So exotic yet full of that unique human beauty, I thought. Even now I don’t think I’ve ever heard her voice without the dubbing, but those eyes said far more than words ever could. The Asian mystique caught in the cinematic mystique. Can you blame me for just walking up and taking her off her chair.
“Wow!” She squealed in not-undelighted surprised, “What are you doing, sir?” Her Spanish was impeccable.
“I don’t know how to dance!”
Her feet said otherwise. Her accent had the flatness and dragged Rs of Mexico City. Who knew the day I would love to hear that accent could have ever come!? I could see my daughter gently shaking her head as she and the other guests watched the spectacle before them. No mind. It was their day and we had all cried all the happy tears we could muster away into glasses of wine and pitchers of beer. Now, it was time to celebrate all those who came here to honor them.
Well, okay, and a petite young lady with inkwell eyes framed by some stylish glasses is something to honor too.
As the newlywed bride readies the camera after recovering from her disbelief, I just look into the young bachelorette before me. Yes, I’ve been married, divorced, re-married and now managed to get this far in life.
Doesn’t mean you have to forget what it was like before all that.
It had been a long day. Yeah, school was easy enough. Just sit down at the desk as the professor prattles on about something, you take some notes and then go on to the next one. The part-time job was where it was really a pain in the ass. 1000 yen an hour to serve cheaply processed food and having to put up with the constant yammering of high schoolers who keep the other potential customers waiting because they’re using the drink bar for all it’s worth as they study to get into a university where it will then be their turn to get a family restaurant job and go to classes? Such a depressing cycle.
That’s why he looked forward to the 22:13 train out of Ueno back home. It meant that he could her after all that hassle. He didn’t know her name but he knew her face, knew that she had a predilection for sweets based on that she always had one of those Oreo cookie bars in her hand which she munched away on as she read some manga or another. One time he caught her reading Golgo 13, as opposed to some else like Nana. It made her that much more curious. She wasn’t going to win Miss Japan anytime soon, but she had some interesting tastes.
It was New Years Day 2010. No school, of course, but the family restaurants of the nation needed to be staffed. It was a rather easy day actually. Hardly anyone comes on New Years. Especially at night. The students are either all in Harajuku and the salarymen are either back home in some distant countryside, still conked on yesterday’s partying, or both.
Even so, the 22:13 still ran it’s course, unaffected by the holiday scheduling, thank goodness.
The train was just crowded enough for there to be no seats but not so crowded that you couldn’t see around you. There she was again. Holding on to the handrail but this time without any sweets or books. Nothing of the sort.
She was looking right at him. Smiling as if she had seen him every day.
“I’m Mari. Happy New Year.”
He was more surprised at how unsurprised he was. He could’ve sworn he caught her sneaking peeks sometimes. There’s always that sixth sense of being watched, right? No way stuff like that goes unnoticed.
“Shigeto. Happy New Year to you too.”
She put her arm around him. Best to start things full force.
This SnapStory1000 features some decidedly coarse language. If such stuff offends you, I would advise the reader not to read this one. Also, this story happens to feature Gun Caliber, a character created by my friend Bueno. Gun Caliber is the property of Garage Productions and I’m sure he will take no offense to my use of his character for a silly little juant.
The girl walked on like she didn’t understand. In a sense, she didn’t, but this wasn’t the time to ask questions about why strange men in beat-up armor and holding a gun in each hand were standing by a beach. These things don’t happen and when they do it’s best to not think too hard about it. She’d seen enough of those fools in Tokyo and she didn’t need it invading her town. Amusing enough at a distance but kind of scary up-close.
“Hey. Where you walking?”
Gun Caliber, evil’s Dionysian foe, had just wrapped up his latest round of training, which included a strenuous routine of kicking water bottles, drinking cans and bottles of beer and shooting said bottles and cans. Not necessarily in the order. In any case, the best way to cap off a good workout is a good woman. This one would suffice, given the choice between this fine lass or the fuckin’ eldery men and women waddling down his fuckin’ pavement and the fuckin’ kids who won’t stop gawking at him when he’s trying to fuckin’ concentrate on getting his shit right.
“Hey. What’s your name?”
The pretext of ignorance was gone. Now, the crazy man in the weird suit had a target to his cries and, honestly, she wished that it was with his guns and not his words.
It wasn’t the first time she been called out. There was also that one AV scout in Harajuku that one time. Why her though? She wasn’t exactly the type you’d put in a magazine, let alone in the nude. Maybe that guy was just desperate to get anyone so his bosses wouldn’t get pissed off. She’d just walked away that time.
However, that suit did have just a bit of allure.
“Uhh..who are you?”
He started to approach the girl. He always used the same line. Hit or miss, doesn’t matter. If the bitches liked it then great. If they ran away, they could just fuck off and suck his hairy nutsack. Not necessarily in that order.
“Gun Caliber. You heard of me?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t say I watch sentai…”
“FUCKING HELL, does this armor look like spandex to you!? Those little bitches ain’t got nothing on me.”
If it had been a man he was talking to, he would’ve added the line “Except those pink ranger bitches. Yeah, they got it all on me, or should I say, I get it all on them?”
Even without that extra line, she looked in dumbstruck disbelief at him.
“Anyways…what’s your name?”
She didn’t see the harm. “Uhh…Akiko.”
“Akiko? Nice name. What’re you doing now?”
“Just…seeing the ocean.”
“Can you take it off?”
“Your mask. You take yours off and I’ll take off mine.”
The ocean rolled in and out as Akiko pondered what to do. It was almost as if under some spell. How much weirder could this possibly get? Figuring she might as well twist the blade, she removed her surgical mask. Her face felt a sudden refreshing chill from the breeze running over her plain features. She hadn’t bothered to put make-up on that day. It was supposed to be for herself.
He took his off. Underneath was a balding Asian man with a pair of oversized spectacles. He believed he was half-Japanese – after all, why would he be here all this time and speak fluent Osaka-ben? That was a story for another time though.
“You’re pretty cute, Akiko.”
“Umm… I think I’ll be leaving now. I’m sorry. Please..uhh… take care okay?”
Without saying an extra word, she put her mask back on and walked away as fast as she could without breaking into a run. This was just supposed a relaxed day of contemplation and sight-seeing just before entering her first day at university. Not an encounter with people thinking Halloween is in December.
Gun Caliber put his mask back on and drew out his guns. Workout wasn’t quite finished.
She could just suck his hairy nutsack and fuck off.
Real Angels don’t have wings. That’s what my friends tell me.
Instead, they say that Angels look just like you and me. Just like us. How crazy is that? It’s interesting though. How fun if the messengers of God were actually all among us? They say when you see an Angel, they disappear right after.
I need an Angel now. Came this shrine to pray for one but maybe that’s just hopeless. Such nonsense really. That may be so, but I thought that asking for one is better than just giving up altogether. Besides, the snowfall hides so many things. I remember that one time I got lost from my mother when I was a little girl because I couldn’t see a meter past my eyes in the snow. Of course, it turned out that she was on the other side of street behind me and I had gone too far ahead. Maybe I was ahead of the Angels? It’s still clear enough though.
I took my fortune and I read it. It was very lucky but yet underneath the Machibito – The Awaited One – it said that he would be coming only after a long while. Perhaps not today then…right?
Tucking the fortune in my wallet, I prepared to leave.
There was a young man who was looking at the bad fortunes tied to the tree. That tree would supposedly absorb the bad luck that got tied to its branches. For there being so many, it’s an awful lot for one to carry. He apparently had just added his to the lot. His gaze was affixed to it.
I tapped him on the shoulder. I’m not sure why. Just felt it was the thing to do. He was startled but didn’t turn around. That didn’t really bother me. After all, who knows what was going through his mind?
I told him “It’s okay. Be strong.”
I walked away before he could answer. Even moments later, I couldn’t tell what he looks like. Just walk away.
The snow fluttered down around me as I left the shrine..
Yeah, I took a vacation not even three days in. Sorry, but it’s a serious pain to write fiction when all you got is an iPhone and you’re vacationing in Hokkaido.
Kazuki looked into Michiko’s eyes. Rather, what would’ve been her eyes had they not been covered by tear-soaked hair.
No response except for the continuous sobbing. Michiko thought, at the age of 15, that this would be forever. She had already picked what dress to wear, what day the wedding would be on and their children’s names. So did Kazuki. It felt so grown-up when he first invited her over when his parents were both out on business. As he saw the tears hit the floor of the station, he remembered how his hands ran down those same cheeks with the same gentle ferocity.
He couldn’t pin-point when it he stopped feeling that way. The way Kimiko would smile at him perhaps? Maybe the thrill after the first kiss had worn off? Perhaps not…the first touch more than made up for that.
“I don’t want you to leave..”
It was a shock to the both of them. First love, first loss. He could just walk away and leave it all behind, but then what? Leave a girl crying? That would make him no better than all his friends who could only look on as their dads had walked away for the last time. No, he had to be more of a man than that. The tears hurt him as much as they hurt her, much as he wouldn’t admit it. But, damn, Akari had those curves and that little Indian girl…Priya? Yeah, that little firecracker had shown some personality in the years she’d been here.
Hard to think about that now though. For the time, there was only the hollow echo of station chimes, conversations and countless footsteps disguising Michiko’s choked sobs.
Mitsuko came with her Louis Vuitton bag into their makeshift home. She gave Alex a kiss on the cheek, as young girls with over-grown and under-exercised libido are sometimes wont to. Alex wasn’t her real name but it was what she asked everyone in the neighborhood to do and nobody could find a good reason to say otherwise.
The search for new fashions can lead to a treacherous road. Sure, it was fun to lead the salarymen on in their desperate, ever-futile pursuit of someone who would give them back the youth they lost to years of cram school and drudgery at whatever outworn spinny chair they sat in at work, but once that gets old, there are choices to be made. Choices between a roof over your head or cutting-edge, name-brand fashion.
Yet, as far as cardboard boxes go, it could have been worse. A worn picture of Arashi was primly taped to the wall and they had enough vinyl umbrellas to keep their make-up – not to mention their 20,000 yen Chanel dresses – dry in the guerilla rains that came in during the spring months. Life wasn’t easy, but at least they could look fabulous.
Mitsuko and Alex held hands as the old guy passed them by. To say why they held hands would be difficult to pinpoint. Largely it was just habit. They had only met a few weeks ago but, with all the guys who would approach them being either lame or AV scouts (you accept one time for some quick cash and suddenly they all think you’ll go with anybody!), it was almost only to be expected that they would be easier say “I’m a lesbian, can’t you see?” and end the conversation quickly.
In any case, the old guy walked by every day. He never said a word but always leered into their tiny abode. After he left, it was the same time-killing conversation between the two:
“God, what a weirdo.”
“I know, why doesn’t he just say something already and get it over with? So annoying…”
“We should totally tell him something next time? Like ‘Hey! 35,000 for both of us all night, wanna go?!”"
“Oh seriously? Then he’d be like ‘Really?’”
“Yeah yeah! Then he just like takes out his wallet and we just brush him off. “Ha! You thought we were being serious!? Get real!”
So the days went. The old guy would pass by; they would alternately cower before him and mock behind his back; and they did their best to get along in the colony of those who have become obedient to the forces of the Cosmo.
Obsession can be a bitch. Sometimes it makes you into one. Sometimes both.