The next day wasn't nearly as painful as it should have been, so I thanked the wandering spirit of the Drunk Monkey and had about 50 Pocari Sweats from the vending machines. We wandered around town, Shibuya, Harajuku, the Yoyogi park swap meet, and Akihabara, Electric Town. On the most desirable electronic gadget list were minidisc players just slightly bigger than the discs (one was orange camo), cell phones small enough to eat in one bite, all manner of dv camera and laptop, plastic guns, portable record players, and little video games. Good stuff, and if nothing else a reason to acquire bags of disposable income.


There wasn't much action on Sunday, so we rolled over to Milk in Ebisu to see what was going down. The music descended from punk rock to hip hop to bad disco to J-pop. We chilled downstairs, and ended up talking to two Brits sitting on the couch. Bad move.


Ramen and cell phones.

The dude was nice, a DJ/Bartender with a family in Japan, who was intelligent and had a lot to say about international relations and travel and human nature. It was a pleasure to meet and talk to him. His companion, however, was a different story: A short, fat, she-beast with a loud mouth and voracious appetite for beer. After riding Americans for having a poor education system and inability to drink, she proceeded to get shit-faced and suffocatingly stupid. The drunker she got the louder and stupider she became, and once she started grabbing our dicks and sticking her hand down the back of my pants, we had to kick the bitch to the curb and bail. We left at 4:30 and had to hang around and wait for the 5:00 first train.


Much to our chagrin, the DJ/Bartender ditched her, and her filthy, barely functioning mind led us to our hang-out spot, where she flopped down beside us. We couldn't shake her. She followed us to the station, then through the toll gate, then to our train. As I was about to board she grabbed on to my jacket and would not let go. Paul disappeared into the tunnel, happily aboard the first train, and I was stuck trying to lose this parasitic creature, and while she broke down some twisted schizophrenic sob story I had to violently remove her from my person. But still she followed. It was truly awful. When I finally managed to unleash her, I let go with such a barrage of insulting, destructive language every Tokyoite for three trains got a taste of the wrath. She's lucky I didn't kick her in the mouth.


I walked up the hill and met Paul at the capsule hotel, where he summed it up best with his question: "Did you kill her?"

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