*shhhkk*ling-a-ling*
"Welcome to the Ucchan! Oh, hey there... the usual, right?"
I hate my life.
*sszzzlkrlk*
"So... how've things been between you and...?"
I probably shouldn't. I'm certainly doing well enough here; the money
you can clear over lunch hour is just outstanding here.
*shff-shff-shff*sszzz*
"She told you that? Wonderful... I'm happy for you, sugar."
And I'm respected not just for my food; people come here to talk, to
unburden their souls. Hey - high school kids are (supposed to be)
too young to drink, and most of us can't afford shrinks. So they
come to the Ucchan with their problems.
*fwp*kksszz*
*fwp*kksszz*
"Well, shoot, honey... if that's whatcha think of her, why the heck
don'tcha up and tell her? Worst she can do is say no, y'know. And
if she's gonna be all high-mucki-mucki like that, y'don't need her,
anyway."
Yup. Nerima's Advice to the Lovelorn. That's me... good old Ucchan.
*whp*whp*chink*
"Look, sugar... if he's gonna be like that, showin' him the door's not
good enough for him. If I were you, I'd send him right out the window.
And if I weren't worried about the property damage involved, I wouldn't
even open it first."
Never pulling my punches, always speaking my mind. Reliable, trust-
worthy, and steady as a rock.
*hsss*whoomph!* "Kyaah!!"
"Look out, gang... back away..." *clik*fwooosh*
"All right, show's over... damn, so much for *that* one..."
But what the hell good does it ever do me?
No one ever even flirts with me... they know I'm taken. And *he*
never flirts with me - not that he even knows *how* - I know *he*'s
taken.
And sure, my customers are loyal... they won't even leave their seats
for a fire on the grill. But if I started in on my own troubles after
listening to theirs, I bet the Ucchan would clear out like the whole
place were going up in flames.
I am going up in flames, here. It hurts so bad, I bet I could pour
batter on my naked chest and cook an okonomi-yaki on it. No, I am
*not* gonna demonstrate... perverts.
See? Everybody wants something from me...
I don't know where I heard it, but there's this story about this guy
who's really depressed. His shrink tries everything to snap him outta
his funk, until it hits him. There's this clown who performs every
day in the town square. *Everybody* who watched him would bust into
laughter - they just couldn't help it. If anyone could cheer this guy
up, it was that clown.
Betcha know the story... the guy WAS that clown.
Well, I know exactly how he feels.
All I need is the greasepaint.
"Welcome to the Ucchan! Oh, hey there... the usual, right?"
I hate my life.
*sszzzlkrlk*
"So... how've things been between you and...?"
I probably shouldn't. I'm certainly doing well enough here; the money
you can clear over lunch hour is just outstanding here.
*shff-shff-shff*sszzz*
"She told you that? Wonderful... I'm happy for you, sugar."
And I'm respected not just for my food; people come here to talk, to
unburden their souls. Hey - high school kids are (supposed to be)
too young to drink, and most of us can't afford shrinks. So they
come to the Ucchan with their problems.
*fwp*kksszz*
*fwp*kksszz*
"Well, shoot, honey... if that's whatcha think of her, why the heck
don'tcha up and tell her? Worst she can do is say no, y'know. And
if she's gonna be all high-mucki-mucki like that, y'don't need her,
anyway."
Yup. Nerima's Advice to the Lovelorn. That's me... good old Ucchan.
*whp*whp*chink*
"Look, sugar... if he's gonna be like that, showin' him the door's not
good enough for him. If I were you, I'd send him right out the window.
And if I weren't worried about the property damage involved, I wouldn't
even open it first."
Never pulling my punches, always speaking my mind. Reliable, trust-
worthy, and steady as a rock.
*hsss*whoomph!* "Kyaah!!"
"Look out, gang... back away..." *clik*fwooosh*
"All right, show's over... damn, so much for *that* one..."
But what the hell good does it ever do me?
No one ever even flirts with me... they know I'm taken. And *he*
never flirts with me - not that he even knows *how* - I know *he*'s
taken.
And sure, my customers are loyal... they won't even leave their seats
for a fire on the grill. But if I started in on my own troubles after
listening to theirs, I bet the Ucchan would clear out like the whole
place were going up in flames.
I am going up in flames, here. It hurts so bad, I bet I could pour
batter on my naked chest and cook an okonomi-yaki on it. No, I am
*not* gonna demonstrate... perverts.
See? Everybody wants something from me...
I don't know where I heard it, but there's this story about this guy
who's really depressed. His shrink tries everything to snap him outta
his funk, until it hits him. There's this clown who performs every
day in the town square. *Everybody* who watched him would bust into
laughter - they just couldn't help it. If anyone could cheer this guy
up, it was that clown.
Betcha know the story... the guy WAS that clown.
Well, I know exactly how he feels.
All I need is the greasepaint.
