I was walking down the hallway after a class with one of my teachers when I spotted My Nemesis. You know who.
He stopped and gave me a coy look. “What will I do today?” his face said, “Will I go for the usual? Maybe try a kancho? Or hit you with something completely different?” C’mon buddy. You and I both know you’re going for my dick. As sure as there are stars in the sky, as sure as Ichiro is worshipped as a God on Japanese soil, as sure as a John Woo movie will feature a scene with white birds flying away in slow motion… you are going for my dick. Let’s drop the coy bullshit and get it over with, shall we?
My dick. He lunged. I restrained. He struggled. I cried. This Endless Waltz.
My teacher walked on. She knew I was gonna be busy for awhile. I’d made the threat before, but this time I made good on it. I carried him down three flights of stairs, back to the teachers’ room. This time, I decided that maybe I should try to reason with him. Perhaps peace could be made through dialogue alone.
New nicknames, for all my people.
Big Daikon – “Daikon” means “radish” in Japanese. This boy’s face is really dry and red, and kind of scrunched up too, so it reminds me of a radish. Big Daikon is also the name of a JET messageboard, so it was already a familiar term.
I think this boy actually has some kind of skin problem…but he really does look like a radish. Hey, I warned you the last time I was a terrible person. Forgotten about Bessie, have we?
MacGuyver – OH MY GOD, HE HAS A MULLET! A REAL, HONEST TO GOODNESS MULLET! It started out as a rat-tail, but over the Spring Vacation it blossomed into a full-grown, glorious mullet. So I named him after the Undisputed God of the Mullet, MacGuyver. I’m half tempted to give him some chalk, a piece of paper, and my shoe, and ask him to create a 15-oz sirloin steak for me.
I’ve sort of nicknamed one school Heiwa Jr. High. “Heiwa” in Japanese means “Peace.” (Former and current JET’s who used the New Horizon textbooks will note the inside reference.) This is by far the quietest school of the three. The students are for the most part really laid back, fun, and hardworking. There are no bad students whatsoever; it’s amazing! Usually, going there is nothing but a good time. It’s also the school of the kids I’d nicknamed before (most of whom have graduated by now) and Moeko. The only real problem kid was Mousey, but I could handle him.
There was a new class of ichinensei, whose lessons I would enter later in the week. I had already gone to the new ichinensei classes in the Ghetto School. Aside from one boy who tried to kancho me (and I really almost expected him to do so), it went pretty well. I even had one class rush up and ask for my autograph! I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I wasn’t expecting too much chaos from the new ichinensei at the School of Peace.
Maybe the day before I started with the ichinensei classes, I was standing in the hallway talking to some students when I spotted Mousey approaching with a friend. The path he was walking would lead him directly behind me. Not wanting to take any chances, I turned around and backed away from him. Mousey spotted my evasive maneuvers.
I went through a bad breakup a few months ago. Breaking up is hard to do, my ex is a moron, I deserve better, yada yada yada. The Maroon 5 “Songs About Jane” CD and all the usual breakup tripe later, it was time to get back on the horse and start dating again.
Now, a lot of my emails include something like, “Dude! You’re a large black man in Japan who speaks Japanese? Holy cow! You must have to fight the ladies off with a stick!” You’d certainly think so. Gaijin Power or whatever. Yet, that is not the case. I will now proceed to prove how extensively God hates me specifically. That’s the only explanation I can come up with.
I was at a cherry blossom viewing party with some JET friends. There were these two Japanese girls there, and one of them kept staring at me. I didn’t think much of it at first, but later I talked to her a bit, which was pleasant. I got her email address, and when we started writing she told me that she didn’t know how to burn CD’s on her computer. Could I possibly come over to help her? Score! Ah, the old damsel in distress trick. Sure, I’ll go and help her “burn some CD’s.” Heh heh heh.
At this point, I was expecting good things. Ah, if only I knew.