You Know You're Obsessed With Tokyo Mew Mew When

by waterwitch12

Basically what the title says. A bunch of ways that you can tell if you're obsessed with Tokyo Mew Mew. Some simple, others extreme. K so far, might change.

2. Chapter 2

Luckily, I've been able to get this next chapter up pretty fast!

Oh, and I'd like to thank Supergirrl for giving me the idea to do a "You Know You're Obsessed With … When" fan-fic. So, some credit goes to her!

Anyway, here's Chapter Two!

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You know you're obsessed with Tokyo Mew Mew when you refuse to call strawberries, lettuce, mint, pomegranates, pudding, quiche, pie, and tarts by anything but their Japanese names.

Sometimes you act like they're the actual characters, and ask them questions.

When they don't respond, you chuck them across the kitchen/grocery aisle/restaurant/church fellowship hall/produce section.

When people question why you did it, you say, "He/She wouldn't answer my question about pairings."

You overly obsess about pairings.

You constantly go into rants about who Lettuce likes, Pai or Ryou?

You feel bad for Keiichiro because he doesn't fit with anyone.

You also feel bad for Zakuro.

Not so much for Mint, because she's mean to Ichigo.

You've spent the past five years dressing like all five Mews for Halloween.

This year you're dressing as Kish.

Even if you're a girl.

You're convinced that Tyra Banks is a Zakuro wanabe.

Your parents are sending you to therapy for talking to fruit and other food items.

You see this as an opportunity, and not a punishment, because now you can spread your knowledge of Tokyo Mew Mew.

You're positive that every time a large sickness hits Tokyo, that it's the work of a chimera anima on top of Tokyo Tower.

You carry around a flashlight with pink cellophane over the lens so that every time you get angry with someone, you can shout "Ribbon Strawberry Check!" and actually get a reaction from someone by shining the light in their eyes.

You constantly wear a bell on your neck… everywhere.

Even in the shower.

And to bed.

In the swimming pool.

EVERYWHERE.

Your therapist has now resigned because of you.

You're saddened to say you never reached her, you just pushed her off the edge.

You blame closed-mindedness for this, not your obsession.

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'Till next time, read and review!