Shiny fat man

There I was, Thursday evening, boarding the Tozai line bound for Nakano from Nihonbashi, where I work. I was feeling very tired and not really looking forward to going home, as my wife and I had had an awful argument last night, didn't resolve it before going to bed and so slept very badly as a result. Plus my boss was being a right wanker, due to his impending divorce from his oh too young hotty of a wife (who personally I think only married him for the divorce settlement). So I was getting grief all over the place, felt worn out like an old ironing board and fed up with the cold wet weather.I had a vague notion of calling my friend, Tom, and go for a drink or five in Shibuya, but quickly thought better of it - really wouldn't go down well with her in doors.
I pushed into the too crowded carriage, and wiggled my way into a corner, where I could lean against the window and study all the grey faces around me. Doing this gave me enormous pleasure, as I had always found faces fascinating and strange. If you look at a face for long enough, it begins to make less and less sense, just like if you look at a word for too long - it seems to loose it's meaning. Anyway, there I was, lost in my own private reverie, when we pulled into Kudanshita, where I had to change trains. I pushed my way through the mosh pit of expensive wool overcoats, and staggered out of the doors, just as the" warning, warning doors closing" alarm rang. I had to pull my briefcase free from the throng compressed within the carriage, and by doing so dislodged a large, rotund man of indeterminant age, who spiralled out as I yanked.
He was big, not in a fatty way but in a dangerously solid way. He had on a double breasted, light blue, too shiny suit, matched by a too shiny tie which seemed to sparkle in the low light. There was not a single hair on his polished head, or for that matter on his face - even the eyebrows were eerily missing.
As he slowed his spinning form, without breaking his momentum, he lashed out a fierce kick which caught me squarely in the bollox. My vision was suddenly intruded by starbursts, dancing like demented angels in front of me. My knees crashed onto the concrete floor, and I began to retch huge gulps of bile, my eyes watering and my hearing tuning into only the higher frequencies. I was cupping my broken family jewels, unable to think of anything and hoping the shiny fat man wasn't going to come in for seconds.
I looked up slowly, unable to suppress a deep, painful moan as his fist crunched into my nose. I heard a loud crack, and a horrible grinding noise as his knuckles wiggled from side to side accross my pulverized nose. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was a sea of crimson red, gushing down like Niagra Falls onto my white shirt and favorite suit. Tears raced down my cheeks, as he withdrew his fist and stepped back. He produced a shiny red silk hankerchief from out of nowhere, like a magician, and carefully bagan to wipe the blood from his knuckles. He bagan to chuckle to himself, and soon this chuckle became a laugh, and then the laughing became louder and faster. It was infectious, and even though I was feeling the worst pain that I'd ever experienced in my life, I too began to laugh. Great big guffaws of laughter. We couldn't stop, and my chest was hurting from the exertion.
All this time, people were just making their way around us, looking straight through us as if we weren't even there.
After this, going home to the wife seemed not such a bad thing after all.

The glove

I was rushing to the station, walking quick double time as I was already 20 minutes late for an appointment with my accountant. He'd phoned me yesterday, imploring me to come and see him with all the tax related documents which he'd been hounding me for the last month, saying if I didn't get them to him today, he wouldn't be able to complete my tax return. Poor man, he does a great job, considering what a forgetful soul I am. I think in the past year I've missed a dozen appointments with him, and am always late to send him anything that he's requested.
So, there I was, being late again, already wanting to go to the toilet even though I'd only left the house 5 minutes ago; a sure sign of an aging bladder combined with abusing my liver for far too many years.
It was just before I descended the steps to the ticket barriers at the station, when I saw something slightly odd on the wall of the little community hall opposite. It was a glove sitting atop the wall (which came to about chest height), by itself, with no sign of it's companion. A solitary glove. It was made from soft brown leather, as far as I could tell, and looked very expensive - prbably calf skin. The strange thing was that it seemd to still have it's owner's hand inside it. I couldn't be 100% sure of course, as I was rushing, but as I took a second glance at it, it seemd to be moving.
Now, you're probably thinking I've gone crazy, or that I was still hung-over from last night's wine and cheese party at a friend's (excellent cheese by the way). But, it really did move. It crawled forward an inch or two, then raised it's index finger at me and kind of waved. I almost fell down the steps because of this, but quickly reasoned I must have been mistaken and continued onto my appointment.
The meeting with the accountant was extremely dull, but I suppose necessary. I really think the only reason accountants get paid so much is because they have to do such a monotonous job, and nobody else would want to put up with things like "tax returns", which were created to put most mortels to sleep. He did open up a bottle of very smooth single malt whisky though, which another client had given him last month. After my second glass I was feeling very merry, and regaled the accountant with the premise of my latest novel, which he agreed sounded jolly exciting.
Staggering out of his office after 3 hours, I decided to go to a local watering hole in Kichijoji, which was popular with the art crowd and where I'd be guarateed to find somebody I knew. Whilst trying to hail a taxi, I suddenly had the sensation of being watched, which sent an involuntary shudde down my back. I quickly looked around, unable to spot anybody suspicious or threatening. Strange, very strange. It was just as I was getting into a taxi when I spotted the glove again. It was across the street from me, sitting on a green dustbin for glass bottles. There it was, reared up on it's behind, waving from side to side at me, as if it were an old friend. I froze, and all the bonhomie that had been coursing through my veins a moment ago evaporated, to be replaced by cold dread.
I told the taxi driver to take me home, as fast as possible. Surely it wouldn't be able to find me again? What was I thinking? It was a bloody glove! I must have been hallucinating, and it was probably the whisky gone to my head. I resolved to get home, have a long hot soak in the tub, and then have a good sleep - at least 8 straight hours, which would sort me out.
By the time I got home it was dark, and I hurried up the unlit path to my house, my key already in my hand before getting to my front door. No sign of the glove, much to my relief, and I shut the door behind me with a slam, and huffed a huge sigh of relief. What a queer day!
I ran a bath, putting some lavender oil in there for relaxation, poured myself a large brandy, gulped it down in one and poured myelf another. I threw my clothes off, promising to tidy up in the morning, and carried my brandy and my naked self to the hot steaming bath. As I lowered myself into the tub, I exhaled slowly, sighing in satisfaction. I closed my eyes and let the comforting water engulf my stressed out limbs, softening my tense muscles and warming my aching bones. Honestly, I really must lay off the juice from now on, I thought as I sipped my brandy. Obviously it was affecting my mental well-bing. Maybe I'd stop drinking tomorrow...or maybe not.
After and hour of inhaling the lavender scented bath, which had left me feeling rather dizzy, I stumbled out, threw a bathrobe on and fell onto my double bed. Ahh, it was delightful. The soft Egyptian cotton sheets and goosedown duvet lulling me to never-never land. I opened my eyes one last time to check the time on my bedside clock, to see that blasted glove again, sitting there in such a manner as if to say, "Got ya!", before it jumped into the air and onto my face, too quick for me to even scream.

Mr. Smith 

Mr. Smith

It was about three years ago when I met him. I'd just moved into my Tokyo apartment, and was still exploring the local area, and frequently getting lost. I didn't mind though, as I've come to realize that it's often when one is lost that one discovers some wonderful little cafe or shop, or meet strange but interesting characters.
I'd been up since 7am, and had finished my yoga workout, which was my latest fad, and was drinking my second cup of Ethiopean ground coffee. The sun was shining, and the day beckoned, so I had a very quick shower, put on some comfortable but warm clothing, and skipped out of my door, wondering what was in store for me. Nobody could have predicted that I'd meet Mr. Smith.
I'd decided to head in a Westerly direction, turning down any street that took my fancy. I really like the fact that Tokyo doesn't seem to have any sort of planning restrictions when it comes to building houses. No two houses or buildings are ever the same, so that as I walked down a street I'd pass an old fashioned, wooden style house with ornate roof, then right next to it would be a strikingly stark, Ando Tadao inspired concrete "object", the epitome of modernity.
I was soon well and truly lost in the best possible sense of the word, and had just spent a few minutes outside a residence that was made almost entirely of glass. It made me wonder what they did at night, when whoever lived in such a place wanted to make love or take a bath, as you could see everything inside. Musing this, I headed on in my journey, taking the next left turning which led me down a dirt track, with tufts of grass poking up from the hard ground here and there. It was also quite dark, as the path was flanked by overhanging willow trees, rustling in the slight breeze. It almost sounded like whispering.
I had walked about 20 meters, and had just turned a sharp corner in the darkening path. Standing before me was a small, old man. Or at least that was my initial thought. He stood about 150cm, thin, wiry and wearing what looked like a fine haired fur coat, with matching trousers. His stood there in profile for about 30 seconds, giving me the time to study him. His face seemd unusally furry. Maybe he had given-up shaving once he'd retired, or maybe he was expecially hirsute. He also wore a bowler hat, which he now twirled off in a showy flurry, as he turned to me and bowed.
"Very pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Smith. How do you do?"
It wasn't exactly what I had expected, as people around here don't usually greet others unless they know them.
"Erm, I'm fine thank you," I spluttered automatically, "my name's Kobayashi."
I wasn't really sure where this was going, so didn't add anything else, as I thought he might live near-by and was just out for a walk, like me, and was being ultra polite, given our close proximity in such a confined space.
"I was wondering, Mr. Kobayashi, if you would be good enough to direct me to the nearest, quality fishmonger. I haven't eaten for two days, and I'm absolutely famished!" he chuckled, then began gently pulling on what I could now see was a very long and fine moustache. In fact, it wasn't really a moustache as such, as there were only about 4 hairs on either side of his very flat nose. You could describe them as whiskers.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Smith, but I've only just recently moved into the neighbourhood. I did see a fishmonger last week, in central Chitose karasuyama. I can't vouch for it's quality, but it was doing a brisk trade, and the service seemed very good." I informed him, trying to be helpful.
He considered this for a few seconds, looking at me all the while with his big green eyes, then said,
"I think I will give it a try, Mr. Kobayashi. Thank you. You've been jolly helpful. I hope we meet again, but for now my stomach calls, and I must do it's bidding. A pleasant day to you." He then bowed again, and very gracefully padded away up the path I'd just walked down. I'm not 100% sure, but I thought I felt a soft brush of a tail against my face as he passed, but I really can't say for certain.
I continued on my way, wondering if I'd ever meet the Mr. Smith again, rueing my missed chance of taking his photograph with my newly acquired digital camera. I was pretty certain nobody would ever believe me otherwise, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
Like I said, it's often when you are lost you can meet some strange and wonderful people. I was hoping that some day I'd bump into Mr. Smith again, and hear, what I was sure would be, a fascinating story.

Japanese studies

Just got back from my second Japanese lesson. There's supposed to be another student doing the same course as me, but I have yet to see him. Instead, a lovely German/Japanese girl called Maiko sat-in for a trial lesson. There was also another teacher today, who I think was a trainee teacher, but when I asked her if this was the case she wouldn't answer me, and quickly changed the subject. Very queer (as in strange, not gay).
Anyway, for some reason my mind just wouldn't engage today, and I felt really stupid and lost. part of the reason being I hadn't done any studying over the weekend due to having to work and attend a couple of social engagements. No excuse though - I don't want to loose this chance of learning and studying. A quick kick up me own arse!
I had a very strange dream last night. I was in a house, with Miyu, and there were loads od snakes slithering all over the place. I felt a bit scared, but the snakes just seemed to ignore me, and when it came to going to bed, I checked the bedroom and there were no snakes. I woke-up the next morning, and going to the kitchen saw that all the snakes had gone. Coming back to the bedroom, with a coffee for Miyu, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a HUGE red snake, which was asleep beneath a table, just inside the bedroom. I stood stock still, trying not to make a sound, when the snake opens it's terrible yellow eyes and looks straight at me. Silence for two seconds, then the snake goes fecking berserk! It's spazzing all over the floor, coming towards me, then changing it's mind and heading toward sleeping Miyu. I start to run after it, with some wild notion of jumping on it's back and wrestling it to submission. Just as I jump, I wake-up.
Left me feeling exhilerated, as I was scared at first, but then after I'd made-up my mind to fight the snake, really brave and strong, with no fear.
Didn't find any real snakes in the bedroom, so was able to go to school!

The bell lady

I can't exactly remember when it was that I first saw her, but it seems to be a long time ago. She precedes sighting with a constant ringing of a shiny silver bicycle bell, and she's always standing still when she rings it, never walking. The times that I've seen her walking, she's usually bent down low to the ground, pushing a mini-shopping cart full of junk. The funny thing is that her clothes are always clean and quite glamorous, with various colourful bangles, necklaces and rings glinting at a once sumptuous life, now long forgotten.

Sometimes she's muttering something to herself, which I'm never able to fully catch, but mostly she's silent, lost to the world. Nobody pays her any attention either, even when she's right in front of somebody ringing that crazy bell of hers, leading me to speculate that perhaps other people can't actually see or hear her. Maybe she's some sort of spirit or ghost, lost in limbo trying to make herself heard.

These thoughts were going through my mind one night, as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to take me, when I heard the bell woman screaming outside. I'm still not sure why I knew it was the bell woman, as I certainly hadn't heard her scream before, but somehow I just knew. I jumped out of bed and immediately tripped over my big cat, who in turn let out a hell of a screech before scampering into the kitchen. I called out to her, and half considered going after her to apologize, but another scream form the bell woman outside made-up my mind to continue my investigation.

I stepped over to my bedroom window and pushed it open, peering out of my second floor apartment into the dead of night. There was shouting now too, from what I could figure out two men. I couldn't see anything, as there was a building right in front of mine, so I had to rely on my auditory sense. Screaming from the bell woman, followed by frantic bell ringing, and then the two men hollering. What was going on? Should I go put my shoes on and venture outside? Was it dangerous? Could I be a hero?

As these thoughts flashed through my head, there was a huge explosion that threw me backwards, flying through the air and crashing into the far wall. I think I must have lost consciousness for a while, because when I came to all was silent. No more screaming, shouting or bell ringing. There was a thick fog of smoke streaming steadily through my window, which stank of sulphur. I was coughing and spluttering, trying to stand-up, but feeling rather dizzy.

Just then, I saw two huge green eyes come racing toward me - my big cat! She bounded over to me, opened her large mouth and clamped her jaws into my back, careful to just grab onto my pyjama top. She then took a great leap through the window, carrying me as if I was as light as a new born kitten. She landed gracefully in the downstairs neighbour's garden, and put me down gently. Boy, was I lucky to have such a strong cat!

She began licking my hand, and her rough tongue felt funny, making me giggle. I stood-up, and saw my neighbour staring at me through his window, his big fat mouth all floppy and hung open. I smiled apologetically, gave him a little wave and walked to the local 24 hour convenience store. All this excitement had given me a huge thirst, and I was trying to decide whether to buy a beer or soft drink. I just knew I'd never be able to get back to sleep now.