Hiroshima


Hiroshima pleases me. It’s one of only two places known to man where thousands were evaporated in seconds from nuclear fire. Those the holocaust did not kill directly perished hours, days, years later from the radiation.

For you flashback fans out there, we last left yours truly driving out of Osaka soaked in blood and feces at unbelievable kilometers per hour. The stench overpowered me quickly and I thanked the God of Restricted Firearms that you can steal anything in Japan with a large knife.

The man was surprised to see me when I rushed into his bedroom and was even more surprised when I crippled his wife with a swift motion of my blade. The sheets having been ruined (blood and feces seemed to be the order of the evening), I made off with a suit and a new car.

Not being too hip to Japanese driving etiquette I was pulled over by one of the local koban. He sized me up and said something forceful. Feigning American confusion I lurched from the car and recited the alphabet. The man, not understanding, received a swift but shallow punch to the throat. As he lay on the ground gurgling I ran over his head with my Acura.

The human head is quite durable; the cranial plate can be over one centimeter thick in some places. When run over at low speed by a light, efficient, well-made plastic and aluminum machine, it doesn’t “pop” or get crushed as one may expect. It makes a squishing sound and issues all sorts of fluid from new and old orifices alike. With a good washing the policeman could still have a respectable Christian funeral if that’s his thing.

The rest of the drive was long. It was uneventful.

I arrived at Hadena airport early in the morning and made flight 673 on All Nippon Airways. By 10:10 I was there.

Hiroshima.

I sat in the Peace Memorial Park and gazed at the Genbaku Dome. What power!

In the park I heard the lyrics “I drink tomato juice every night / Why don't you get outta my sight” from the turned-up and turned-on headphones of a genuine Japanese schoolgirl sitting next to me. Her teacher was demonstrating some eternal flame to the rest of the class while I stared intently at this girl.

She looked up, pleading with her eyes, whispering “It is Shonen Knife”.

I was at a loss. It would be almost impossible to sneak her out of the park without being seen, but the decision was made when she brought her knee to her chest reaching for her perfectly white shoelace. Her skirt slipped up just enough and we were gone.


SMR 99.10.28