Originally entitled: Return to Oz. If you haven't read or seen the movie, The Wizard of Oz, you really are missing out on something fantastic.
Even Dorothy went back to that wild and wonderful technicolour land a few times. Now it was my turn.
I had to visit a whole slew of primary schools (Grades 1-6). Munchkins! Munchkins everywhere!
My day began innocently enough with a hangover courtesy of some weekly large-breasted girlfriend who had picked me up a couple of days earlier at my local bar, the 4-C. Although I was in a good mood, my body told a far sadder tale.
I sat down at my desk at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) and began to type out a story on my Fujitsu computer that had been configured to allow me to type in English, rather than in the three Japanese alphabets. It was monochrome, and despite it being 1992, no one here had heard of the Internet yet - not even me, although truth be told, I had been "surfing" with my computer since I was maybe 14 years old in the late 1970s with my computer, visiting message boards and talking to what I hoped were professors at various universities throughout the world. If any of you should be happening to read this blog (only one professor I know does! - from Australia), I was known as Professor MaryAnn. Now you guys know why we could never meet. Yeesh.
Anyhow, when I went to print my story, all five pages of it mysteriously disappeared in a writer's worst nightmare - the system failure zone.
Weeping as I repeatedly bashed my fists against the terminal, Kanemaru-san showed up and began talking to me. Something was strange. He was using pretty good English.
Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind and had a gag put over my mouth--believe me, that wasn't easy--and had a set of handcuffs snapped around my wrists. Was I back home with my girlfriend du jour? I then had a blindfold placed over my eyes, and lost consciousness as something blunt and heavy made repeated contact with my he-----
When I awoke, it was to a thunderous headache. I wasn't sure if it was last night's bourbon or the smacks to the head. Opening my eyes, I found myself sitting in a small plastic chair and was no longer fettered by my chains of entrapment.
Now chancing a look about, a cry of "Herro!" split my brain. I closed my eyes again. "No," I thought to myself, "this can't be happening."
Three times I clicked together the heels of my white Reeboks and whispered, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."
I opened up my eyes and peeked. Nope. It didn't work. They were still there. Hundreds of little people, tittering at me in Munchkinese. Some of them grabbed me by my arms and made me stand up. I looked down at them down there between my ankle and knee and began clicking my heels together in even greater urgency. Still nothing. Maybe you really do need ruby slippers. Where did I leave mine?
And, while Dorothy may have enjoyed her visits back to Oz, I had a misgiving or two. At least Dorothy could speak the same lingo. Me? Not so lucky. And the kids? Well...
They began to sing and dance in a circle around me. With arms linked they sang (and I kid you not): It's a Small World Afterall". Next I recognized the theme song for the kid's anime Totoro (an Earth elemental), and then a strange piece called: "Tuwinkaru Tuwinkaru Ritta Suta" (I'll you what it means later, in case you are unable to phonetically figure it out).
It was all very touching and confusing, but I knew my nightmare was only just beginning. The Munchkins made me sit down on the floor, as the entire village of Muchkinland gathered around me pointing, staring, laughing and drooling.
One by one, they stood up and asked me a question. Because I had been in Oz for a couple of years now, I did understand a smattering of their vile and evil tongue.
They wanted to know what I liked to eat (47 times); why I had an earring; why I wasn't married; how old I was; and why I wasn't dead yet.
However, by far the most perplexing question was put to me by a little fellow who said he was six. 'Six' what, I had absolutely no idea.
Our conversation was exactly as follows:
"An-do-ryu-kun?" (Andrew old boychick?)
"Haiiiiiii. Nani?" (Yesssss. What is it?)
"Gaijin desu ka?" (Are you a scuzzy outsider from a foreign land that isn't Japan/Oz?)
"Haiiiiii." (Yesssss)
"Naze?" (Why?)
Hmmm, the little bugger had me there. Why? I could do nothing but laugh at his inquisitiveness. Why. I love that.
They then bade me to sup with them. I nodded a yes (hai). I was hungry, and I wasn't sure if the Munchkins were edible or not.
I was lead by hundreds of pulling hands to a large dining area where they gave me a portion of their local cuisine they called spa-ge-ti-me-to-sa-su. It looked pretty good to me, but the odd eating utensils made eating this food that looked like spaghetti and meat sauce a difficult chore.
I watched how the locals ate it to get a better grasp of the situation. Some simply picked up their bowl of food and slurped, while others picked up this noodle-like thing in a grubby little hand to place it to their mouth before slurping.
Me-to-sa-su was flying in every direction: It landed on the table; their strange garments; faces; and hair. Some even managed to get it into their mouth.
I was quickly losing my appetite as many of the Munchkins had mucous running from their nose - some even tried to help it out by sticking a finger up the cavity or by sneezing. My heel clicking was on over-drive - but still nothing!
Finally, it was over. Several of the larger Munchkins (obviously slaves to the small ones) came and took my still-full plate and then hosed me down with cold water.
Then came a horror I had been fearing... I had to pay for my supper. I had to sign my name 1,000 times. I did it on pieces of paper on text books, and when that ran out I was made to continue signing on articles of grubby clothing splattered with me-to-sa-su. The final indignity was when I was forces to sign their body parts.
As suddenly as it began, something blunt and heavy again made repeated contact with my he-----
When I awoke, I noticed I was back in front of my hellish computer. My 'friends' at the OBOE all smiled and grinned their metallic toothy grins at me.
My boss, Kanemaru-san then walked up to me and grinned a grin so wide that it began and ended at the back of his head. He said: "Tomorrow."
Uh-oh! What did that mean?
Somewhere wondering if mucous can be removed by dry cleaning,
Andrew Joseph
Today's Title is by Chris Impellitteri - he is one amazing git box strummer: LISTEN
PS: I actually enjoyed myself visiting the primary schools during the month of March while the junior high schools are locked down in final exams. And while my method to and from Oz and the Munchkins is highly exaggerated, the rest of the events did indeed transpire. Tragically.
