Tag Archives: Humor
SnapStory1000 #020: Tidying Up
#020: Weeding Out
They’d just about had it. It was time to clean up the country and the people at the top weren’t paying them enough and they were part of the problem. A silent coup was the only way to bring a semblance of hope and balance to the country. After so many years of stopping cyclists with broken lights and letting domestic violence cases in the station off with a wave of the hand and a blind eye, they knew it was time to do something to make amends.
It was time to put Grandma in the slammer.
“Where are you taking me Sonny-boy?”
“Routine questioning, just relax.”
“What are you doing?! Stop it!!!”
At first the families always argued. The instinct of protecting the family is a hard to break, after all. It would be okay in a matter of hours though. They’d get Granny in the cuffs, put her along with Pops in the backseat and off they would go to Liquidation. The family then is informed that their relative has volunteered into a home, complete with an address they can be reached.
They never do, though. They never do.
In any case, it was a radical move to do in Hokkaido but it will be looked back on as necessary to allow the youth to take over in the future. Right, right? So what if the kids can’t read kanji or do ikebana? At least the country will be out of the doldrums. First Hokkaido, then Harajuku. That’s the word the chiefs running this renegade cockamamie gamble of an operation keep saying. With each the old soil overturned, new flowers can bloom. The Land of the Rising Sun already had plenty of water around it and it’s got the sun shining overhead.
The ambition of youth is inherent and key to saving the nation. You remove one and are guaranteed to create another.
The nation was always built on division and revolution. This was but one more.
Hail to the era of youth without the old. Those enlightened at 20.
SnapStory1000 Day #005: Gun Caliber
Day #005: Target Practice
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.
“Hey.”
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?”
“Pardon me?”
“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.
SnapStory1000 Day 002: Little Boxes on the Curbside
Day #002: Fashion Slaves
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.