[If you're just joining us, read the story of how this experiment began.]
NO HANDGUNS EXPERIMENT #6: SUSHI RESTAURANT
Even in Kansas, sushi restaurants are springing up like hot cakes, or at least hot cakes rolled in raw fish and coated with seaweed. Most of these "sushi joints," however, are run by Mexicans and Koreans pretending to be Japanese. With my years of experience with Asian women, I've learned Japanese. This was going to be fun.
I found a likely offender of Japanese authenticity and plastered my sign while people waited for me to complete my task.
I no longer feared being caught, so I stood there taking my picture as people walked into the restaurant.
As I completed my task of posting the sign, a 73 year-old Korean lady in a pink sweat suit with JUICY written on her butt walked outside the door and took the sign down. She struggled a bit since the sign was above her head. I should have told her abut the gnome hating dentist across the street.
My anger was boiling like a rabbit in a stew. I had to do something immediately to rectify the situation.
I dialed the number and decided I would use my Indian accent, mixing in a bit of Japanese for authenticity and confusion.
FAKE JAPANESE: Moshi Moshi, Edokko, how can we help you?
JAPAN CLIVE: Moshi, mosh... [Pregnant pause]
FAKE JAPANESE: Hello, how can we help you?
JAPAN CLIVE: Moshi mosh ... Corivu to moshimasu. Anata no resutoran ni nanika sushi ga arimasu ka? [This is Clive, what kind of sushi do you have at your restaurant?]
FAKE JAPANESE: Hello, how can we help you?
JAPAN CLIVE: Nan daio? Nihongo o hanshimasu ka? [What the hell? Don't you speak Japanese?]
FAKE JAPANESE: [Talking to someone else: "I think he's speaking Japanese, go get Kenji"] Hold, please.
JAPAN CLIVE: [Yelling now] BAKA AHO! KSO! ["Estupido bastardo"]
REAL JAPANESE: Moshi moshi, Kenji to...
INDIAN CLIVE: [I interrupt, using a horrible Indian accent] Good evening, my friend. I was coming to visit your place of business to eat a sushi. Unfortunately, I cannot, due to my awkward protestations of your signage on the front veranda.
REAL JAPANESE: Uh, Herro, prease hord.
FAKE JAPANESE: Hello, how can we help you?
JAPAN CLIVE: [Yelling] BAKA intendaio!!! ["Estupido bastardo" x10 with a Yakuza accent. I start yelling incoherent Yakuza sounding phrases. The Yakuza is the Japanese mafia and has their own distinct sounding language.]
REAL JAPANESE: Moshi moshi.
INDIAN CLIVE: Hello? I just want to buy a sushi please.
REAL JAPANESE: Ok, prease come to stowa. [I hear him hand the phone to the fake Japanese person.]
FAKE JAPANESE: Yes, is this a carry out order.
INDIAN CLIVE: Yes, I would like to order a sushi please but first let me inquire about a piece of signage that is causing much consternation with my paternity.
FAKE JAPANESE: Carry out order? What would you like?
INDIAN CLIVE: I would like to see a ninja.
FAKE JAPANESE: Ninja, we no have ninja. That a high school prank.
INDIAN CLIVE: OK then, I will take a sushi for me, a sushi for first wife, a sushi for second wife. My third wife does not live in the America. My fourth wife is making dinner for my fourth family so just three sushi and a Coca-Cola to go.
FAKE JAPANESE: What kind of sushi would you like?
INDIAN CLIVE: I would like a ninja sushi for me, a samurai sushi...
FAKE JAPANESE: We have no ninja. This is joke, right? I not like jokes, you don't call back. [Hangs up]
She was definitely wrong about one thing: I left high school years ago.
Next: The Doggie Dentist!
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