At the Counter

The rain was falling pretty steadily and even though I had an umbrella, I was still getting wet. Only a few more blocks to the red lanterns and greasy pine pillars. I was looking forward to this. God I hated Fridays. My kids class drove me up the wall. With Chris and Yo gone, I was the only male teacher in the school. I wasn't interested in my coworkers' gossip about the latest trendy dramas or forays to the local gaijin bar. I was going to forget about all that now.

I slid back the wooden door and the smell of grilled chicken filled my lungs as I ducked under the noren. I could feel the stress leaving my body. The Master looked at me and poured me a draft without saying a word. I downed it in five gulps and ordered another with a Chu-hi chaser.

I was feeling better. The rain had driven away the customers leaving just me in the shop. The Master grilled me some chicken and went back to the paperwork he was doing at a table. I guess he could sense that I wasn't up for any idle chitchat or teaching him a few English words. I ate and drank in silence for an hour and half when a middle-aged man came in to disturb the peace. Fuck.

Of all the empty stools at the counter, he choose to sit beside me. Here's trouble. Most Japanese won't sit beside a foreigner unless they have to. That is, unless they want to speak English to you. I braced myself.

"Oi! Tsukune, shiso-maki, atsukan."

Rude little twerp. The sake went down first and he loudly demanded another bottle. He swallowed it down with his chicken and finally looked at me with a lobster-red face. He smiled and ordered a bigger bottle of hot sake and offered me a glass. Who was I to refuse? I threw the cup back like a shooter of water and he quickly topped it up. I slammed it back again, and again, and again.

"Hey, Shawn. Watch yourself. Go slowly," warned the Master.
"So, you understand Japanese!" piped Lobster Face. "You an English teacher?"
"Uh-huh." More sake came and I entertained Lobster Face's questions while trying to keep my balance on the stool. I took one of his smokes.

"Shawn, take it easy," the Master cautioned me again.
"Yeah, yeah,yeah, yeah," I replied, brushing him off like a nagging parent. What did he know about my day? Crazy kids and yappy coworkers. Just keep the booze flowing. Am I not your best customer? Who's putting your kids through school? Jeez.

"You like Japanese girls?" Lobster Man asked, now leaning on my shoulders from all of the booze he had consumed.

"Yeah. They're beautiful. Nice body proportions and fabulous India ink hair." I was beginning to rant and couldn't focus my eyes very well.

"They don't try and be equal with you like a western woman. The last girlfriend I had in Canada made everything into a competition like she was trying to prove something to me. A Japanese girl won't do that窶杯hey love you and look after you. No disturbing "The Force" there."

He leaned on me harder and I gave him a jab in the ribs to let him know that he should keep his distance.

"But foreign women have such large breasts and long legs. Blonde hair."

"More than a mouthful is a waste," I said, turning my attention to the Master for some food.

There was a weight upon my crotch. I looked down and saw five sausage fingers pumping my nuts. I looked over to a fat, shit-eating grin.

"You are really hung!" he proudly exclaimed as if he had just discovered something.

The Master and I locked eyes. I told Lobster Face to fuck-off and back-handed him across the face, getting off my stool ready to hit him even harder.

"Maybe it's time for you to go home," the Master said as he cleaned the bottles and plates from the counter. Lobster Face got up, paid for his meal and staggered out into the rain. The Master laughed at me.

"He copped a feel did he?"
"Shut-up. I should have kicked his ass, the pervert. Next time he'll be kissing my knuckles!"

"That's what you get for drinking too much. Here."

The Master passed me a few bottles of oolong tea to help me clear my head. The tea only made me feel worse. I thanked him for the food and staggered out into the rain. To heck with the umbrella, I was still damp from when I first came in. I zig-zagged to the train station and somehow managed to get on the right train. I shouldn't have had that tea.

I grabbed a seat and put my head against the wall to brace myself against the sake I had drank and closed my eyes.

"The usual bunch of suits," I though to myself.

"It's a gaijin," someone said.

Yep. The usual pack of idiots. I should be congratulating them for their astuteness. Now, can you guess my nationality? No, I'm not American you moron.

The guy next to me didn't look too good. Time to move over. At the next stop, he covered his mouth but it was too late. He sprayed his dinner on the floor. Okonomiyaki.

The doors opened and he let the rest of his dinner drop into the gap between the train and the platform. The train clickety-clacked on its way, the noise lulling me into a trance.

I fumbled with the keys to my place and barely made it up the ladder to the loft. I crawled under the sheets and shut my eyes. The room spun like a top. I rolled over and puked.

I'll clean it in the morning.