https://youtu.be/gDSGgSMTRS0I’ll never forget the first time that I watched Speed Racer. The Japanese anime/children’s cartoon brought delight to many different minds of many different ages, and as for me, I’m forever young and then some. Admittedly, that caused my girlfriend to leave me, claiming I was ‘the little boy that never grows up’, quote-unquote, but as far as I’m concerned that just makes me Peter Pan without the tights. As for me, my name is Creighton Wang. I’m a native Tokyian. I go to one of those sea-side high schools Americans daydream about, in which the girls all wear sailor suits and have giant eyes and small mouths. Check it out.Anyway… I work at a 7-11. You may or may not have heard that 7-11 is Japanese-owned since the early 90s. We get a lot of fancy foods that you don’t have in America, like squid, octopus, meatballs, and escargot. One day, while I was stocking shelves I opened a box with my box cutter and accidentally slit my wrist open. After nuking a towel and applying it to stop the bleeding, I checked out the inside of the box to satisfy my piquing curiosity. A VHS tape? And a VHS tape of Speed Racer, nevertheless. My heart skipped with joy as I perused the label. It was from America! A fancy sounding place: ‘Pennsylvania Avenue’. I let my co-worker heal me up like sucking blood out of a venomous snake—OK, it was just just a flesh-toned bandage or two. Given that traffic was slow, I figured my buddy Yoshimoto could man the front register while I popped the tape into the VCR in the back room. I figured I’d make it up to him by narrating the plot to him afterward. Grabbed myself a rice-flavored big gulp while I was at it.
“Here he comes. Here comes Speed Racer. He’s a demon. He’s a demon. He’s a demon. He’s a demon. He’s a demon…”. The theme song was stuck in loop, like a Weeaboo bragging about his Sailor Moon figurines and manga. I smacked the VCR, but that didn’t help. I then tried tapping it with a bamboo stick (one of prized cuisines at the 7-11 where I work). Again, it did not work. However, I did notice that the VCR was a little hot, so I gave sticking it in the freezer where we freeze-dry the year-old chicken wings and hot dogs and all that for a few minutes, and that did the trick. Was I suspicious? Yes. Yes… I was.The episode began with Speed Racer racing in the Daytona 500, a prized American racecar event. ‘Speed, you must win the race!’, a little boy with a yarmulke exclaimed. A straw and somehow neon sign flashed that Speed was in 5th place and not going to win the race at all! I was scared by this. Not even two gulps from my big gulp could cool me down. Anyway, if you remember the chimpanzee monkey character—and I’m not really sure why they came up with that one, other than that resorting to adding a monkey is something poor writers do for cheap comedic appeal—that was when he stepped in. On second thought, that was when he juggled in. An assortment of katanas, dangling in the air, lopping around from one furry, nearly-human evolved hand to another. And then… then he threw them all into the wheels of a Model-T Ford! I froze, terrified. Could this have been an editorial on hard feelings from my native people about World War 2? I guess it didn’t matter now, because I have a strong, shogunistic sense of honor. That, and Speed was now in 4th place.
Next up was 5 minutes of the race cars going in circles and nothing interesting happening. Then the cars rewound for about 3 1/2 minutes. I timed it on the microwave in the break room. Seriously, it was like watching paint dry. And, as a carpenter of origami bird houses, I should know.When the actual, non-filleristic content resumed, I let out a yelp. I did so for two reasons. One, I bit open my bandage and the blood hadn’t stopped yet, so I paused and, shivering in horror from what I had just witnessed, open up a plastic tin of Hello Kitty band-aids and applying one, kissing the open wound like mother used to do. But that wasn’t the worst part of that moment. No. The WORST part of that moment… was Godzilla rising out of the ocean. This has been a fear of my people for decades, and a living nightmare that I cannot put into words. ‘Godzilla! Attack! Tokyo! On fire!’. I didn’t understand why that middle-aged man character was obviously lip syncing despite being a cartoon (American voice actors, maybe?), but what he pointed at was unreal. Real life footage of the Mall of America, world famous vendor of pastries and carnival events… by gosh, by golly, it was on fire! Why did they mesh actual, real life footage into an anime (not a cartoon, but an anime)? Where did they get this monstrosity from, and how? Mercifully, the film finally broke back to the cartoon. It was Godzilla stomping on another American automobile, some sort of Chrysler I think, again and again. Eventually, Godzilla got bored of the manslaughtering and sat on the crushed up remains of the car until a team of pit stop workers escorted him away from the track. In his defense, he looked a little guilty about what he had done, but that didn’t make anything better or bring anybody back to life. Speed was now in 3rd place.
Suddenly, an atomic bomb went off. There was no warning. I don’t know why it happened or how, but all I can tell you is it did and I went blind for several seconds, which scared the hell out of me because I eat carrots everyday and am accustomed to having perfect eyesight. The nuclear carnage was concentrated on just one car, which was immediately vaporized with the remains sucked up into a singularity of a black hole that somehow situated itself among the puffy marshmallow clouds and rising sun (a proud symbol of my heritage and homeland). Speed was now in 2nd place.Perhaps the most frightening thing about this entire experience was how close the race was. It was neck and neck, with both cars flying at breakneck speed, nevertheless! Speed was sweating. The other driver, wearing a colonial American hat, powdered white whig, and clutching a flintlock musket with one hand and his wheel with the other, was also perspiring heavy. I couldn’t help but let out some saltwater myself, with all this anxiety going on. I tucked some 7-11 paper towels and tp into my armpits as I prepared to enjoy, if you can really use that word here, the final moments of the tape.They were the worst moments yet. The worst moments of all, ever, ever. Really.
It isn’t that just one thing happened, or even two. It was a combination of a few things. The eruption of Mount Fiji, like one of you Americans after a fast food Taco Bell dinner. The American driver exploding into bones, blood, pancreas matter, and chunks of intestinal tract while the trunk of his vehicle tragically popped open revealing the tied up corpse of Popeye the Sailor Moon, clutching an unopened can of spinach that he just could not open in time to swallow sweet, sweet spinach leaves and gain his usual super strength, saving him from asphyxiating in the back of Johnny America’s car. And then, above all—and this, truly, was my breaking point—was a 700 pound sumo wrestler emerging from the sea. “Death to America Pigs!”, he exclaimed, smacking away at the American car superfast like E. Honda’s fists in the Street Fighter 2 16-bit Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo video game, as the lava finally swooped down and left his final, fatal bits carnaged. Ashened.I couldn’t take this anymore. I grabbed the VHS tape and ran the hell out of my store. Admittedly it took a few minutes to get it out, because my hands were covered in my splurted out wrist blood (the bandage didn’t stick) and wasabi-flavored jam, but I am a man of imperial honor and have the strength of many sun gods. Or, perhaps not the latter, but I was just very, very pissed. I ran so fast that I tripped over a bicycle, the chosen vehicle of my people when not taking the bus, but six blocks later I made it to my family’s Shinto temple, dropped however many Yen I had in my kimono pocket, and let out a final, fatal prayer for whatever Yokai spirit had inhabited this tape to get out and leave it forever.
And that’s exactly how it’s been. You see, a Yokai is what you Americans now call a phantom, or a ghost, and in this case it was a kappa, a tiny water-dwelling sea creature that is a ridiculous mix fo man, monkey face, turtle shell, and duck-like hands and feet. I am now a kappa, a Yokai, and I haunt the streets of Tokyo looking for new victims to possess with a need for speed and a hunger for an American, fast food diet. If you ever feel the desire to travel to Japan or visit a 7-11 there, I ask you, please never open up a box with a VHS tape inside of it, because it could be a revenge curse from an anonymous American. Or it could be your ex-girlfriend who’s pissed that you refused to let her have her dog back. Either way.
Oh.
/x/ is so lameEverything feels either fake, forced, tryhard or feminized, reddit, beta/goon fuelI miss the world before covid
>>42742383Reminds me of something that happened to me. Never heard anything else like it>be me>going camping with some buds (call them S and P)>first day is fine except for an odd smell hanging in the area, kinda like raw sewage mixed with copper mixed with the scent of asshole sweat>night falls>we're all sitting around the campfire trading swigs of Jamesons when the smell comes back>slaps us in the face like a fat bitch twerking on her period with a leaky asshole>gag.wmv>hear something circling our campsite>whatever it is, it's BIG>it's gotta be 9ft tall and built like a defensive linesman, only with backwards legs (still haven't seen it at this point tho)>friends scared>but I'm cool as a cucumber>got my PKP Pecheneg at the ready plus a side arm, so I'm ready to go Rambo on this bitch>suddenly S goes out to take a piss>we tell him to be careful>30 minutes later he hasn't returned, starting to get worried>about to go check on him when suddenly he comes back>only he looks.... off>the rustling around the campfire is gone, but the rancid asshole smell is worse than ever>I ask S if he's all right, because he's kinda twitching>he asks, "Are you all right?">something seems weird about that, but I shrug it off>figure he's just tired>we all decide to go to bed>but S keeps trying to convince us to go into the woods>me and P say fuck that and go into our tents while S hangs out next to the fire>that night, I hear P scream>but I think nothing of it, figure it's a bad dream and go back to sleep>when I wake up, both S and P are gone>I wait for a couple of minutes>When they don't come back I drive up to the ranger station and tell them my friend's are missing>guy literally looks at me and says>"If I were you, I'd forget you ever knew your friends.">do as he saysNever went camping again. Eventually S showed back up in town, but he was never the same. P is still missing to this day
>>42741988
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