Going Belly Up

I was taking a stroll around Kabukicho the other day. Gawking at all the latest trends in Pilipino hookers, pawnshops, and androgynous looking man-boy hosts.

That sought of stuff.

And then one particular establishment caught my eye. A lovely little Fugu (puffer fish)  Restaurant that was good for a bit of a giggle.

I was about to go in for a bit to eat, when I spied this little fellow taking a rest on the bottom of the tank.

Given that most Fugu fish probably contain more poison than you could poke a stick at, I was surprised that a restaurateur would have a dead one in his front window.

I’m also not normally a fish guy, so I was also intrigued at the new varieties of fugu on display.

I can just imagine the poor old employees inside:

Waiter: “Gosh, it’s a bit slow around here tonight eh,”
Chef: Don’t tell me you forgot the 営業中 sign again did you?”
Waiter: “Nah, it went out hours ago. Maybe the ice skating is on television again?”
Chef: “Really, not bloody Mao-chan again. She murders our sales you know.”
Waiter: “Yeah that’s probably it. The figure skating!.”
Chef: “Ill put the kettle on. Fancy a cup?”
Waiter: “God, I thought you’d never ask.”

Chef: Have you seen that nice white cup I won at pachinko? Cant seem to find it anywhere.”

Pining for the fiords in Shinjuku.