Favonia’s Fruitless Fable

By Satoko Ichihara
Translated by Aya Ogawa

Cast of Characters (in order of appearance)

Me

Senior Colleague at Work, Hiroshi

The Other Me
Hard-On Man / Dummy
Chinese Singer Mao Maisey
Chinese Singer Mao Maisey’s Manager

There are two performers. “Me” is played by Actor A while the rest of the roles are
played by Actor B.

Night.
This is a back alley.
It is dim, and nothing can be seen clearly.
There may be something hiding. On the other hand, there may not be. There
is nothing definite about this place.

During the day, children use this place to play house or war, transforming the space

ME: Oh, hello.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You change your hair?
ME: No, I haven’t.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You haven’t.
ME: No, does it look like I have?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Not really.
ME: Oh, really.

Favonia’s Fruitless Fable 119

into a house or a battlefield.
Now it is night, and “Me” walks the back alley alone.
Just as children play house and play war, what actually happens in this alley is a
distortion of reality.

“Me” might be the Favonia of “Favonia’s Fruitless Fable,” or she may not.
The audience may see “Me” as Favonia, or they may not.
There is nothing definite about “Me.”

1. 1. Invitation to Fellatio

Me wears worn-out fake leather pumps and wanders in. She is wearing an office worker’s
uniform (skirt, button-down shirt, vest). After walking for a while, she talks to the
audience.

ME: I was walking down a street at night to buy new pumps, because there was a
rumor that real leather pumps were sold in a back alley late at night. My pumps
were fake leather. Fake leather is good in the rain and low maintenance. They’re
light and cheap. I would buy fake leather pumps and wear them out and throw them
away. Buy them, wear them out, and throw them away, over and over. But it was
time I experienced the softness and quality of real leather.

Suddenly, Me’s consciousness seems to drift far far away. Her eyes cross. A
Senior Colleague at her office, Hiroshi, enters. He is wearing a suit.
Me comes to.
This is the office where Me works.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Yo.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You should get a better hairstyle.
ME: Uh-huh.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You’re cute up close.
ME: Oh, uh-huh.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You karaoke don’t you?
ME: Oh, I don’t karaoke much.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Huh, don’t lie. Why are you lying?
ME: Oh, uh.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: What do you sing?
ME: Oh, I don’t know.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Ayu or Amuro or Aiko1, right?
ME: Oh, yes, Ayu or Amuro or Aiko, yes.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: I thought so. Most girls sing Ayu or Amuro or Aiko.
ME: You’re right. Ayu or Amuro or Aiko.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You wanna go together?
ME: Oh, well, hahaha...

Senior Colleague is silent.

ME: Uh, uh-huh...

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You cook?
ME: Huh?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You know, I do all of my house chores. It makes my mind
really sharp. I put water in the hot water maker and click the switch. While the
water boils, I push the button on the washing machine. I use Attack Neo on the one
rinse cycle. I put rice and water in the rice cooker on the no-wash speed setting
and push the switch. By then the water’s boiling and I make tea. The tea is hot, so I
slowly blow on it as I drink. That always makes me want to go to the bathroom, so I
go with the newspaper. In the confined space of the bathroom I can really focus. My

mind absorbs all this information about the Japanese economy. When I read with
such focus, time passes. Then the laundry is done with a chime. Beep, beep, beep...
(Senior Colleague mimes giving a blow job with his mouth. Me reacts, but in the
next moment, Senior Colleague stops and Me doesn’t know whether to believe her
own eyes.)
When it rings, I flush the toilet and hang the laundry out to dry. I hang my socks out
first. Socks come in pairs, black with black, gray with gray. So, I hang each pair to
a pin. That way, when I take the laundry in, they’re already in pairs. Then I hang
underwear (pointing at Me’s underwear) and the HEATTECH and other clothes that
aren’t in pairs. By then the rice will be ready. So, I prepare the natto 2. Beep, beep,
beep...
(Senior Colleague mimes giving a blow job with his mouth. Me reacts, but in the
next moment, Senior Colleague stops and Me doesn’t know whether to believe her own
eyes.)
I love natto. If I were asked what I’d like for my last supper, I might say I want to
eat natto. I put okra in my natto. Okra is slimy so it’s good for your body. It keeps you
regular. You should put okra in your natto. Also, natto is...
ME: (Overlapping with Senior Colleague’s lines.) Yes, yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! I eat a
lot of okra too!

Senior Colleague is silent.

ME: Even before you told me to!

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: My mother always told me to eat it.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: But in a book I read recently...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...it said if you ate too many slimy foods...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...it’ll actually make you constipated...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...and other adverse effects.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: Too much is not good for the digestion.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: Same with mushrooms.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: People say mushrooms are good for your body, but—
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...if you eat too much...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...they have a component that...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...makes your personality...
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: ...very arrogant, apparently.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh, uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut
up. Let me finish. Don’t try to interrupt me. Because right now I’m the one who’s
talking. All you gotta do is nod and chime in with “uh-huhs.” If you were a normal
person, you’d just relax. Right now, your job is to nod. You’re on ‘uh-huh’ duty.
I just showed you how to do it. Nobody’s talking about mushrooms. Anyway, I
already know that about mushrooms. The importance of eating things in moderation
is something everyone knows already. I’m not stupid. Are you implying that I eat
too many mushrooms?
 (Pause.)
Fuck off. I don’t eat too many. I eat them in moderation. Why do I have to hear
about mushrooms from a woman like you? What are you, an idiot? I can’t enjoy
such ordinary conversation. Everything you’d try to talk about, I can predict from
your first word. I already know everything. From your second word, I ready my
response based on what I foresee your point being and I’m basically always correct.
Textbooks were like that for me. In middle school I only studied for a month and
got into the best high school in my hometown. Whenever I read the first sentence
in a textbook, I already knew what the rest of it said. But college admissions were
a different story. Elite universities had different standards for language. I barely
studied language because language was Japanese and I’d been speaking Japanese
since I was born. I didn’t think I had to study it. I could understand the language
standard for my fallback schools, but the really elite schools had much higher
standards. I was surprised by that difference. But in the end I hadn’t studied, so
that was that. In the end, who cares about university. I can read the paper in the
bathroom every morning. You’re cute up close.

In the middle of this speech, Me’s consciousness begins to fade and her eyes cross. She
then wanders the stage on unsteady feet. Senior Colleague does not notice the change
in Me at all. After he finishes his lines, he exits.

ME: (As if having a nightmare.) Real leather, real leather, real leather.
(Me falls down after a while and then comes to. There she is, in the back alley.)
Real leather gets better with age. It conforms to the shape of my feet and becomes
a perfect fit. Not only that, but small nicks heal naturally, like living skin. It’s a
miracle! It’s as if they’re an extension of my body. Take off the fake leather and
wear real leather! To become a new me! Then I’ll...
The urge to find real leather pumps when we get stressed out is the way of the
women in this world!

1. 2. The Other Me

Me looks into the empty space as if someone is there. She speaks to the audience as if
to explain who that is.

ME: Tonight I will be meeting my other self. The fact that we each have another self that
exists in the world is something that only some people know. Fighting one’s other
self at times results in murder. That is also a known fact. It is also said that the
surviving self must eat the flesh of the dead self. They say that makes the surviving self
 strongest and that her flesh is incomparably delicious. But all of this is taboo so
the media never reports on it. They’re different from doppelgangers. Their faces don’t
look alike. People’s ways of life change their faces. People with twisted personalities
have twisted faces. People aren’t born ugly, they become ugly.
But is it really so bad to have a twisted personality? Sometimes I wish people
thought I had a bad personality. I’m a straightforward, good person so I have a
straightforward face, but sometimes I wonder why my face is so neat when I look
in the mirror at night. (She touches her own face.) How boring. Anyway, I’ve
gone off on a tangent. Apparently, one’s other self is born when it splits off at
some point around puberty. It’s a self with other potential, a lost self, a self that
has lived another life that you could have lived, that’s the kind of life the other me
is living, they say. I can be me because my other self exists. Without her, people
wouldn’t be able to tolerate me. The same goes for my other me. Because of my

existence, my other self is able to tolerate her own existence. We make each other’s
existence possible, so they say. However, everything I’ve told you up till now is
all...a hypothesis! These things are not certain. Since the topic is taboo worldwide,
research has not advanced in any country.

The Other Me (Me 2) enters briskly. She is wearing a fur coat with a stole around her
neck and a wig.

ME: Oh! Excuse me!

Me 2 stops.

ME: Have you seen real leather pumps being sold around here?
ME 2: Real leather pumps?
ME: Yes, I came to buy real leather pumps.
ME 2: They sell pumps one alley over, but they’re fake leather and terribly made.
They’ll make your feet bleed. Your shoes will be full of blood. My friend who was a
ballerina wore those pumps and now she can’t dance. Poor thing.
ME: That’s horrible.
ME 2: These days there seem to be more and more women looking for real leather
pumps. I live nearby and I’m frequently asked. What’s the story?
ME: There are rumors among women. Haven’t you heard?
ME 2: What? No. Huh. So that’s why. But why is everyone looking for real leather
pumps?
ME: Everyone longs for them, especially women. They’re soft and high quality.
ME 2: Hm. I’m a woman, but I don’t understand at all.
Me looks down at Me 2’s feet. Me 2 is not wearing shoes; she is barefoot.

ME: Wait! You don’t wear shoes?

ME 2: I’m already wearing shoes.
ME: No, you’re not!
ME 2: I’m wearing real leather pumps.
ME: What are you talking about? You’re barefoot. That’s dangerous. You will bloody
your feet.
ME 2: Yes, I will. But they will heal and grow stronger and stronger. All of us humans
are born wearing real leather pumps. Why would you wear real leather pumps over
your real leather pumps? Why would you bloody your feet wearing man-made pumps?
If your feet are going to get bloodied anyway, let them get bloody wearing your own
real leather pumps. Take care of your real leather pumps.

Me and Me 2 gaze at each other. The tension between them heightens.

ME: Me.
ME 2: Me.

Me and Me 2 draw close to each other gingerly.

ME: Me...

Me approaches Me 2 and reaches her hand out to touch her face. Me 2 lets her touch her
face. Me uses both hands to touch her face, as if to assure herself that this is real.

ME: You’re a bit rugged, but I feel jealous. You’re beautiful.

ME 2: Really? Thank you. But who cares about that. Let’s not murder each other.
I’m stronger than you in every respect. I’m the one who has not lived feebly. I have
lived listening to only my own voice. (She takes Me’s arm.) Your arms are so thin.
In the 6th grade my armpit hair was already thick. I’d shave and shave, but it grew
back thicker. I couldn’t participate in swimming class. I plucked out the hair, but
that made me bleed. I begged my mother to take me to a permanent hair removal place,
didn’t I?

Me nods.

ME 2: (Nodding.) You went, but I didn’t. That is where we split apart, and I was born.
ME: Then and there.
ME 2: If I may be blunt—I’m very popular with men. I don’t know why. My makeup
is haphazard and I cut my own hair. I’m not particular about my clothes. Once I
asked a man I was with, why are you with me? He said, “I don’t know.” What do
you mean, you don’t know, I said. Then after some thought he said, “You kind of smell
good.”
Apparently, I smell good. Hair locks in smell. Isn’t the smell of sweat a natural
perfume? Pheromones? My body hair retains more pheromones than women who
shave.

Me is silent.

ME 2: (Looking at Me.) Are you popular with men?

ME: I’m pretty popular!
ME 2: I’m sure. You’re wearing man-made charm. That’s nothing.
It’s like showing men the word “woman” and attracting them to you, “Look, a
woman.” All I have to do is make eye contact and meow and they meow back, that’s
it. Why do you want to be popular? Are you lonely? Are you afraid to be alone?

Me nods.

ME 2: (Nodding.) Loneliness that brings people together is still loneliness.

Life is much more fun than that.
ME: I... You...
ME 2: That’s right, Me. It’s Me.

Me and Me 2 gaze at each other.

ME 2: I was drinking by myself at a bar. I was thinking about something. It’s my

nightly habit to nurse a glass of whisky. Some might think it’s pretentious, but this is
my nature. I was saying I like to drink whisky every night to a teller at Mizuho Bank
and the young girl said, “That’s so cool!” It isn’t cool, I’m not being pretentious.
Haruki isn’t being pretentious. He eats pistachios and croissants because that’s his
nature. That’s Haruki, and this is me, I told the girl. She was shocked. You know
Haruki Murakami3?
Everyone has their own nature. I am all natural.
Wait, what was I talking about?
Yes, so the other day I went into a bar I’d never been to. There was a woman like
me, drinking alone. She ordered several scotch whiskeys.
 So, I asked her, do you like scotch? She said, “Yes, I do.” But there are so many
kinds of scotch with so many different flavors. Oh yes, fruity, sweet, oily... We really
hit it off and talked about different types of whiskey. I met her several times at that
bar after that.

One night we decided to grab a bite. We left the bar and walked. There was a sign
for a cabaret club. It was a collage of a lot of photoshopped girls. She looked at
it and said, “Oh, huh, hm,” and I had a strange feeling. Yes, it was just a strange feeling.
Then we went to I think a barbecue grill place. We ordered some meat, and since I like
garlic I got three orders of foil-wrapped garlic. She was surprised. She said, “Your
mouth will smell.” It’s fine. You’re quite a snob. My body craves garlic, so I must
accommodate it. Otherwise, poor me. Yeah. So I ate garlic and she ate meat.
Sometimes I ate meat and she ate garlic. That night we missed the last train. She let
me stay in her apartment. I used her shower and when I came out the room was dark.
She was lying down on the mattress next to the window. There was no other place for
me, so I lay down with my back towards her. Then she slid her hand in between my
thighs.

Me 2 slides her hand in between Me’s thighs.

ME 2: After a while she climbed on top of me. Her full breasts pressed against mine.
They bounced against each other, and then she reached down and squeezed my breasts.
Ah...

Me 2 draws Me close, takes Me’s hands, and makes her scoop her breasts from below
and caress them.

ME 2: That was quite a night.

Me 2 moves away from Me.

ME: Hmmm.
ME 2: Yes.
ME: So, why were you telling me all this?
ME 2: I don’t know. I was just talking. I was just telling you about something that
happened.
ME: Huh? What am I supposed to take away from that?
ME 2: I don’t know. That’s not for me to decide. That’s your choice. You’re free to
feel however you feel. In fact, you can take away that freedom. Or not. You’re free.
You’re free to buy man-made real leather pumps. Or you’re free to wear your own
 real leather pumps. It may be fun to live like that. That’s my choice.

But I will live wearing my own real leather pumps, since I’m going to be bloodied
anyway.
ME: I... You...
ME 2: That’s right, Me. It’s Me. Do you want to get a drink?
ME: All right.

Me and Me 2 hold hands and walk.

They are in a bar.
Me and Me 2 sit side by side at the counter.
They are very drunk.
Me is leaning into Me 2 and playing with her hair.

ME: Oh, how I wish I had huge breasts like they have in those erotic manga, man.
ME 2: Hmm. Haha, yes, that might be nice.
ME: But big-breasted women are obsessed with their boobs and the women are
usually ugly. They wear short shorts and tight tees and trap their purse straps in
between their boobs. Stupid men get caught by them. That’s why they’re obsessed
with boobs and men. One day their boobs will sag. I guess that’s just how it is.
ME 2: It is. That’s all right. It’s still a privilege.
ME: Big boobs are great, I guess. I wish I were popular.
ME 2: I thought you said you were popular.
ME: Oh! I am pretty popular!
ME 2: What do you do?
ME: As you can see, I’m just a regular office worker.
ME 2: Oh, how I envy you.
ME: Huh? Anyone can do it.
ME 2: What, office work?
ME: Yeah.
ME 2: I envy you. Wait, is that your uniform?
ME: Yeah.
ME 2: How I envy you.
ME: Huh?
ME 2: I want to be a mindless office worker. Just making copies and shredding paper
all day. Spend the whole day without a thought. I can’t believe you can really live
like that. I’d love to spend the day like that. I would love to stop thinking. I envy
you.

And my boobs would be huge. My boobs would sway as I walk, and stupid men would
 make fun of me. Hey, Holstein, whose only merit is being cute, go make me some
copies. I’ll listen to their talk, yeah, yeah, and marry one of them. A mindless office
worker—how wonderful.
ME: How wonderful! A Holstein, how wonderful!
I want to be one! Just once I want to be called a Holstein!

Me 2 moves away from Me and unfastens her fur stole, then slowly approaches Me.
The air is tense. There might be a murderous battle, when...
Me 2 quickly shoves her stole into Me’s shirt, around her bust, and molds them into shape.
Me now has a huge bust.
Me 2 whispers into Me’s ear with a sexy voice.

ME 2: Make people all over the world drink the liquid that comes out of your body.
Mooing. You pervert.

Me becomes a Holstein cow.

ME: Moo.
ME 2: They call cows that produce a lot of milk super cows.
ME: Moo.
ME 2: That’s so erotic and nasty.
ME: Moo.
ME 2: Nasty Ms. Holstein.
ME: Moo.
ME 2: It’s so wonderful, you’re bringing tears to my eyes.
ME: Moo, moo, moo.
ME 2: See you around, nasty Ms. Holstein.

Me 2 exits, crying.
Me continues fully becoming a nasty Holstein.
She massages her own breasts and flicks her tongue around.

ME: Moo, lick lick lick. Moo,

lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
 Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.
Moo, lick lick lick.

She is in the back alley.

ME: Since I met my other self, I’ve had to reconsider my way of life. My other self
talked about her freedom. I too want to listen only to my voice. I ought to live
wearing my own real leather pumps. But I read magazines and I study the fashion
trends: military mix, normcore, one tone coordinates. I buy them. Some nights
before I sleep, I chant I will get married, I will get married, but quickly I forget and
stop, though I swear secretly to repeat this ritual until I die.

Me starts dancing as if, like a marionette, she is being manipulated by some invisible
force.

ME: I am being danced by someone, someone is making me dance.

Me allows herself to dance fully.

ME: But it’s fun. In fact, I will dance.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Yo.

Senior Colleague suddenly enters. This is the office where Me works.

Me turns to face Senior Colleague, thrusting her huge breasts towards him. She once
again becomes the nasty Holstein and tempts Senior Colleague.

ME: Moo.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Hey, you want to go karaoke?
ME: Moo.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Have you been out all night?
ME: Moo, moo.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You a Holstein?
ME: Moo, moo, moo.

Me embraces Senior Colleague, pushing her breasts into him.

ME: Moo!

Senior Colleague shoves Me away. Me falls to the ground face down, pathetically.
Senior Colleague slaps Me’s buttocks as if to say, “Stand up!”
Me stands on all fours like a cow and begins to crawl clumsily. Senior
Colleague approaches Me, loosening his belt.
Me and Senior Colleague disappear.

1. 3. A Meaningless Fight

Me enters as if she has been hurled onto the ground, face down, in a pathetic state.
She stands up and begins to walk. She wipes her mouth. After walking a while, she speaks
to the audience.

ME: I was walking down a street at night to buy new pumps. There was a rumor that real
leather pumps were sold in a back alley late at night. My pumps are fake leather. These
days the world is full of fake leather pumps. Why is that? Every shoe store sells fake
leather pumps. These days all women who walk the streets are bleeding from their
heels. They question these circumstances but can’t do anything. They say, “Oh well,
whatever.” But somewhere they wanted to experience the softness and quality of real
leather.

Suddenly Me’s consciousness seems to drift far far away. Her eyes cross.
Senior Colleague enters. He’s wearing sweats.
Me gasps and comes to.
Senior Colleague looks out to the audience, standing unmoving with his mouth open. Me
is relieved and then indicates Senior Colleague as she begins to speak.

ME: I got drunk with my senior office colleague, his name is Hiroshi, after we did
karaoke all night. We made out, I gave him a blow job, and then (her mouth imitates
giving a blow job) we started to go steady. The way Hiroshi speaks, his appearance,
and his face—I didn’t like any part of him. I hated all of him. I knew well that I
should drink in moderation, but I always ended up saying whatever and drinking too
much.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Hey!

Me, again, gasps and comes to. They are in Senior Colleague’s room.
ME: Oh! I’m sorry.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: I haven’t said anything yet.
ME: Oh, oh.

During Senior Colleague’s next monologue, Me lounges around on the floor, picking
her nose. Senior Colleague faces the audience, standing still, mouth open.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Hey, you know, socks come in pairs—black with black,
gray with gray, and so on. So, clip them in pairs when you hang them to dry. That way,
it’s easier when you take in the laundry. You ignore the pairs and hang them
haphazardly, so the person who folds the laundry—in other words, me—I have to
go through a lot of trouble. If you took more responsibility and took in the laundry
yourself, I could let it go. I do have that much lenience. But you don’t. You lie
around and you eat boogers or booger-like ama-natto4. I feel disgusted just looking
at you. You’re a woman, so you’re used to pantyhose that connect both your legs.
You don’t know what it feels like for me, for men, whose socks are separated. You
just stuff your face with ama-natto.

ME: (Interrupting Senior Colleague.) I have worn socks, you know.

Senior Colleague is silent.

ME: When it’s cold.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: And inside I wear Gelato Pique socks.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: The fuzzy kind.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: The thick room socks.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh, uh-huh.
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.
Shut up. Don’t interrupt me. Who cares whether you’ve worn socks before?
That’s not what I’m talking about right now. I was trying to send a message about being
more considerate and using the socks as an example. But you didn’t get that at all and
just got worked up about socks. About wearing thick socks in winter. What are you, a
fool? Give me back the time I wasted talking about this. That’s what I have to say to
you.
ME: Hiroshi, what you say—
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: —is hard to understand.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: Is it my fault?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: Am I stupid?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh, uh-huh.
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.
Shut up. You and your talk. You’re trying to tell me to be more sympathetic towards you.
Listen to yourself. I’m putting in so much work to converse with a fool like you.
And you’re trying to turn it around in your foolish way. Before you tell other people
what to do, do something about your own idiocy. That’s what I have to say to you.
ME: You’re horrible.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: You call me a Fool—
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: —but Fools actually possess wisdom, you know.

Senior Colleague is silent.

ME: Don’t make fun of Fools.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: What the hell are you talking about?
I give up. Are you fucking crazy? I did call you a fool. But I wasn’t referring to
the archetype of the Fool. It was a convenient word. But you’re all hung up on that
word. Just like with the socks. You get hung up on the weirdest details. You get
hung up on my calling you a fool. You defend the Fool in literature. Obviously, I
know that the Fool actually had wisdom. I wasn’t making fun of the Fool. In fact, I
wasn’t even talking about the Fool. I was just using the term in a generic sense.
When you said I was horrible, you were really just upset that I called you a fool.
You must have realized I was saying you, and not the Fool, were stupid, but you
were distracted by the Fool and wasted time defending it. Are you kidding? Loser!
By the way, let me add that the Fool may have possessed wisdom when he used his
wits, but his daily life was full of holes. And those gaps created his charm. He’s a
charmer, that archetype. So, calling the Fool foolish is not making fun of him. It’s
coming from a place of love and familiarity.
ME: Does that mean you find me charming too? Is it coming from a place of love and
familiarity?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Shut up, are you kidding? You’re not charming at all. Is
this ‘Are you crazy Part 2’?
I was talking about the Fool. You on the other hand are an idiot any time of any day,
 loser.
ME: You’re horrible.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: You’re too horrible.
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Uh-huh.
ME: Aaaaaaaaah!

Me starts to cry, exaggeratedly. Senior Colleague says nothing.

ME: I am holding back violent emotions all the time. Hiroshi, you always make fun
of me, so you never feel such violent feelings. That makes me feel even angrier. But
you feel nothing. And that’s why the gap between us grows wider. And that makes
me feel even angrier. It’s a vicious cycle. I’m always the one suffering. Ah!

Me starts coughing, as if she’s remembering to.

ME: I’m in pain, hey, sorry, ow.

She coughs.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Oh, hey.

ME: Sorry, ow.

She coughs.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Oh, listen, the way you suddenly forced the conversation
in that direction really disgusts me.
ME: Aaah!

She cries.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Oh, what? Can you please listen to what I have to say?
ME: You’re always so calm. The way you talk enrages me. Why are you so condescending?
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You’re always distracted by what’s in front of you. Before you
get upset about the way I talk, can you just listen to what I’m saying? Let’s be
rational.
ME: (Talking over Senior Colleague.) Oh! Cockroach!

Me starts smacking the area around her with her shoe, as if trying to squash a
cockroach.
She hits Senior Colleague. Several times. She
beats him with increasing hatred.
Senior Colleague then hits her back, once, on the head.

ME: Ow! Ah!

She cries.

ME: I’m not a cockroach! You’re horrible.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: I’m not a cockroach either.
ME: I’m so angry that you looked like a cockroach to me, Hiroshi. This is terrifying.
(She cries.)
I can’t believe anything, even myself. But Hiroshi, you’re not angry. And yet you
pretended I looked like a cockroach. You hit me out of malice. How could you?

Hiroshi, you’re insane. It’s horrifying!

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Is this ‘Are you crazy Part 3’? You’re a hopeless loser. I
could just say that I saw you as a cockroach too. I felt such violent rage that you
looked like a cockroach to me.
ME: You didn’t see me as a cockroach, Hiroshi. No way. Would you slap a cockroach
with your bare hand? No!
SENIOR COLLEAGUE: If I were to do things your way, I could say that I, too, hold
such violent emotions that yes, I would slap cockroaches with my bare hand.
ME: You’re horrible! You thought I was a cockroach. I’m not a cockroach. You mistook
your loved one for a cockroach. Hiroshi, you’re insane. It’s horrifying!

Senior Colleague is silent.

Suddenly, he starts doing a slapping dance. He slaps different parts of his body with
the flat of his hand. He increases the speed and moves around the room, like a hockey
puck, he runs into the wall and changes direction. Like a cockroach.

ME: Stop it! Stop it!

Me cries. She begins to imitate Senior Colleague in doing the slapping dance.
Senior Colleague continues dancing as he exits.
[Projection] A giant close-up of Senior Colleague’s face, looking straight into the
camera.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: Hey.

Me comes to and stops doing the slapping dance.
Senior Colleague in the projection begins to speak.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: You know, I didn’t lose. Let me just say this. You said I
was condescending. But I have solid grounds to brag, right here. I have a giant cock.
As you know. In other words, my giant cock is the grounds. I have a giant cock.
I have a giant cock. I have a giant cock. My grounds for bragging lie in my giant
cock.
When I failed my Japanese language entrance exams, that’s what I chanted. Women
who have giant tits have them where everyone can see. They use their giant tits

when they’re in trouble to overcome crisis. All they have to do is push them together.
It’s not fair. I wish I could use my giant cock to overcome crisis. But my giant cock is
down here. It’s hard to make it stand out. My ex-girlfriend who was beautiful and had
huge tits got married and had a baby and she sent me pics of her kid. Are you kidding?
The kid’s not cute at all. Shitty brat. What the fuck. Are you fucking crazy? She used to
be head over heels for me. Every time she sends me pics I chant: I have a giant cock.
I have a giant cock. On the way to McDonald’s there’s a shitty boutique. The
shitty-smelling old ladies in the neighborhood go there for owl prints, leopard
prints, dog prints. All shit-colored, vomit-colored clothes. All tunics and other
shapeless old lady clothes laid out in this tiny store. It’s disgusting. There are old ladies
inside the boutique with heavy makeup caked on their faces like noh masks, with
putrid breath, eating lipstick, selling weird clothes to their putrid friends, soiling the
town with their putrid breath. Who the fuck do they think they are? And even then I
chant: I have a giant cock, I have a giant cock. And as I chant, my giant cock climbs up
my body.

[Projection] His giant cock gradually climbs from his crotch up to his chest.

SENIOR COLLEAGUE: And look at where it is now. Now in a moment of crisis, I can
use my cock to overcome it, like women do. I’m invincible now. I’ve decided to wear
only skin-tight tops from now on.

In the middle of the video projection Me goes cross-eyed and dizzy. The projection
ends.

ME: (As if disturbed by a dream.) Real leather, real leather, real leather is... Real
leather gets better with age. It conforms to the shape of my feet and becomes a
 perfect fit. Not only that, but small nicks heal themselves naturally like living skin. It’s
a miracle! It’s as if they’re an extension of my body. Take off the fake leather and
wear real leather! To become a new me! Then I’ll...

Me falls down and comes to. She

is in the back alley.

ME: When I get stressed out, I have the urge to find real leather pumps. That’s
the way of the women in this world!

1. 4. Crossroad of Dreams

Hard-on Man (Man) appears.

He has a giant cock growing from his chest. He wears a polo shirt with the buttons
unfastened so that his cock thrusts out from the opening. He is holding the head of a
female dummy.
The dummy is wearing a wig like the one Me 2 had on. The dummy’s mouth is a big
gaping hole.
The man is thrusting his giant cock in and out of the dummy’s mouth.

Me quickly hides.
The man continues to make the dummy perform fellatio on him as he speaks.

MAN: Th-th-th-this, right here. When there’s this rock-solid fit, my confidence which
was at zero percent begins to recover. Because of this [my giant cock], I never tried
that hard at anything. I failed at many things and have had my share of struggles. At
times like that, I fit this here, rock-solid, and my self-confidence comes back. That’s
how I’ve lived up till now. So, there are benefits and disadvantages to having a giant
cock. I’d say in the end, they balance each other out.
I met her (indicating the dummy) a month ago at Y-Mobile. When I was drunk, I
dropped my cell phone. I reported it to the police but after a month it still hadn’t
been found, so I went to Y-Mobile to look into other options.

Man talks to the dummy.

He also performs the dummy’s lines like a ventriloquist.
Dummy’s voice is high, like a young girl. It’s hard to believe that this voice is coming
from the Man.

MAN: Um, I got drunk and dropped my phone.

DUMMY: Yes, that happens.
MAN: What should I do?
DUMMY: Let’s switch you over to a new device and make sure your lost phone can’t
be used.
MAN: So, that’s what happened. I had been using a flip phone, so I thought I’d switch
to a smartphone. How do I use LINE? One thing led to another and that’s how she
arrived here [at my cock].

Fellatio is the crossroad of dreams. In my case, I do without kissing or any other

foreplay and put it in her mouth straight away, no penetration or pillow talk
afterwards either. There’s just fellatio by itself. That is why it means so much. You
might think me a savage beast to do this with my giant cock, but I am just human.
I live with my mind. I am proud of my humanity. I am so human, I’m headstrong
rock-solid! Going right in rock-solid doesn’t feel good to me either. Shoving a rock-
solid thing into something else is just animal. I’m rock-solid now, but I usually start out
soft and get rock-solid inside the mouth. That’s why rock-solid means so much. If I
go straight at her rock-solid...

Man tries to force his cock suddenly into the dummy’s mouth.

DUMMY: Eeek!
MAN: See, she is surprised, she is scared off. She might even call the cops. So, I have
to assess her. Can I go for it or not? In the end, I just go for it. I have a giant cock,
I have a giant cock, I chant. And when I get to make my move, rock-solid, (Man
fits his cock inside Dummy’s mouth) it’s like yes! She may hesitate, but ultimately
she puts me in her mouth and I cheer for her. (To Dummy.) Good job! You’re doing
great!
DUMMY: Nnnnnnnnng.

Man goes through the motion of moving the dummy back and forth, simulating a blow job.
It grows more intense.

MAN: She’s encouraged by my cheering and she gets into it, and so do I. (To Dummy.)
Thank you, thank you! You’re amazing! You’re a major leaguer!
DUMMY: Nnnnnnnnng.
MAN: Ooooooooooh.

The dummy’s back and forth movement simulating a blow job slows down.

MAN: Sometimes we hit a lull in the middle, and she starts getting rational.
DUMMY: (Sighs.) What am I doing? Oh, look at my split ends. Maybe I should try a
 silicone-free shampoo...
MAN: (Cutting Dummy’s lines off.) Hey. In a hurry, I cheer her on, harder.
Man speaks to Dummy.

MAN: Good job! It’s not scary! Stay focused! Keep going!
DUMMY: Nnnnnnnnnng.
MAN: Oooooooh.
DUMMY: Nnnnnnnnnng.
MAN: Ooooooooooooooh!
DUMMY: Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng!

The back and forth motion with the dummy escalates and then suddenly stops.

MAN: Oooooff.

Pause.

MAN: Like that. So, you see there are so many thoughts that cross my mind. That
is how fellatio is the crossroad of dreams. Recently, a disembodied spirit has been
coming to me to give blow jobs. I don’t have to plan a time and a place. I can get
a blow job any time I want. I don’t even use my new smart phone. Who needs it?
Your own mind is the best PC. Man can do anything as long as he has his mind. I
am so human, I’m headstrong rock-solid!

Me has been trying to contain a sneeze for a while but finally lets it out.

MAN: Huh?

Me, in a panic, imitates a cat meowing.

ME: Meow.

Man looks in the direction where Me is hiding.

MAN: ...Is that a cat?

DUMMY: ...Oh, a cat?
ME: Meow.
MAN: Cats do live in these back alleys.
Doll sneezes.
MAN: Are you OK?
DUMMY: Yeah. I’m getting cold.
MAN: Yeah.
ME: Meow.
MAN: I bet holding that cat would be warm like a hot water bottle.
DUMMY: I want to pet the cat. (She sneezes.)
MAN: Yeah? All right.

Man and Dummy call out in the direction where Me is hiding.

MAN: Here kitty, kitty, come here.

DUMMY: Here kitty, kitty, meow, meow, kitty, kitty.

The cat does not come out.

DUMMY: Kitty won’t come out.

MAN: I’m sorry. If I had more money, I’d buy some Fancy Feast and draw it out. All
because of this. (Indicating his giant cock.) I’m sorry. I wish you could warm up
with that cat.

Pause.

ME: Meow.
MAN: Oh, the cat is crying so close. But I can’t reach it. Happiness is so close. But I’m
powerless to make it mine. (To the heavens.) Dear God, I cannot reach that cat. How
did I become such a man? If I am reborn, I’ll study hard and become a high-earning
man. And then I’d like to pet a cat. (He cries.)
DUMMY: It’s all right. (Dummy calls out in the direction where Me is hiding.) Meow,
meow, kitty. Please come out.

Man, encouraged by Dummy’s admirable resilience, joins her in calling for the cat,
even through his tears.

MAN: Meow, please come out. Please.

Dummy begs the cat to come out, placing her head on the ground. Man also quickly
joins her in dogeza5 position. Man and Dummy keep begging. The sight of them is
horrifying. Me, unable to bear it any longer, comes out of the shadows.
ME: Uh, I’m sorry, I was pretending to be a cat.

Man immediately stands up.

MAN: Hey, hey!

Man violently grabs Me’s neck and drags her into a dark corner.

ME: Uh, wait.

DUMMY: It wasn’t a cat?

1. 5. The Moon and the Back-Alley Merchant

Me enters as if she has been hurled onto the ground, face down, in a pathetic state.
She stands up and begins to walk. She wipes her mouth. After walking a while, she
speaks to the audience.

ME: I was walking down a street at night to buy new pumps. There was a rumor that
real leather pumps were sold in a back alley late at night.
Finally, tonight, I will get my hands on real leather pumps. At the end of this
alley there will be a concert and there, apparently, they will be selling real leather
pumps, cheap. At long last, I will experience the joy of getting real leather pumps.
I am there, gathered with many other women. What a strange sight to see so many
women filling the alley. Everyone is wearing fake leather pumps. Of course, I am
too. But tonight will be the last time. I found out about tonight’s concert on my
smartphone.

Me takes out her smartphone from her pocket.

[Projection] Chinese singer Mao Maisey. It is an outdated-looking CD jacket.

ME: This is the famous Chinese singer, Mao Maisey. He’s like the Elton John of
China. Tonight he is going to sing his song “The Sun and the Cobbler on Main
Street.” It’s his response to “The Moon and the Back-Alley Merchant.”
“The Moon and the Back-Alley Merchant” is a well-known song, but for those of
you who don’t know it, it was broadcast as part of a children’s program called “Let’s
Play with Chinese.” The song is in Chinese so I couldn’t fully understand it, but
the accompanying animation showed a back alley with soup dumplings and chives
 buns and shrimp dumplings floating around. As a child I thought the song was about
selling dim sum in the back alley. When I read the actual lyrics on this website, I
trembled in horror at the disparity between the lyrics and the animation.

Me reads the song lyrics off of her phone.

ME: “The back-alley merchant sells real leather pumps

Pumps in rainbow colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple, all
lined up. What a beautiful sight.
But only God knows those are fake leather pumps. Nobody
notices how their heels bleed and weep.”

Me slowly and quietly puts her phone away in her pocket.

ME: What do you think?

As you can see, this song is about pumps, not dim sum. Some Chinese-speaking
people made a fuss about it. Why is the animation about dim sum?
Horror! Tremors! Yes!
And women who heard “The Moon and the Back-Alley Merchant” began to go to
back alleys to buy real leather pumps. We’d been brainwashed!
Horror! Tremors! Yes!
I myself was completely brainwashed! I can’t believe myself ! I can’t believe this
world!
Horror! Tremors! Yes!
And apparently the brainwashing of women using songs like this is spreading all
over the world!
Horror! Tremors! Yes!
But why brainwash women? There was a big conspiracy!

Mao Maisey’s Manager (Manager) enters. He is holding a paper bag.

This is a Japanese person imitating a Chinese person. The imitation is not of an actual
Chinese person, but a caricature of a Chinese person as presented in the Japanese
media.

The gathering. It is packed with women. Manager stands on the stage.

Me acts as if she is just one of the many women clustered around the stage.

MANAGER: Good evening everyone, welcome. Thank you for gathering.

I am Mao Maisey’s manager. Nice to meet you. You all come here. Very clever.
 Only chosen people can come here. Those who listen Mao Maisey’s “The Sun and
the Cobbler on Main Street.” The sunlight shine down on you and warm up your
body and deprogram your brainwashing from “The Moon and the Back-Alley
Merchant.” Everyone, your real life begin tomorrow.
ME: Yay! Woo-hoo! Sun! Sun!
MANAGER: But one thing. I’m sorry. Mao Maisey can’t come tonight. Upset stomach.
ME: What?! That’s unacceptable! Hey! What are we going to do if you can’t deprogram
us?!
MANAGER: Calm down, everyone. But it’s all right. In fact, I brought DVD. It has
same effect. It will deprogram “The Moon and the Back-Alley Merchant.”
ME: What? Really? Whew! Thank God! Oh good. Yeah, what a relief!
MANAGER: Yes. But before that, we sell real leather pumps.

Manager takes out a pair of pumps from the paper bag.

They look exactly like the pumps that Me is wearing.

ME: Oh my God! (She faints.)

MANAGER: My associates smuggle these from an Italian shoemaking school.
Masterpiece made by 2% elite craftsmen. So wonderful. So wonderful. These are
authentic. Fits like your own skin. Your heels no bleed, no way. Every night polish
them with nutritional skin cream. You not let go these shoes all your life. Nutritional
skin cream is 20,000 yen per bottle. But today I offer special set.
ME: What? Really?
MANAGER: This is a super special set sale! You put cream on face every night,
right?
ME: Yes! I do!
MANAGER: This cream has everything: coenzymes, collagen, jojoba oil, placenta,
everything in there. It’s best for human skin too. It makes skin very soft. Soft and
supple. No wrinkles. Scratches heal right away. So soft. Like a woman. Soft.
ME: Really? I want it! How much is it? That’s the real question!
MANAGER: Cheap. One million yen!

The whole place gets quiet.

MANAGER: What? Is expensive? This real leather!

ME: Oh, but I can’t buy that. One million yen? Right?
MANAGER: How long you forced to dance? Don’t you want to walk in real leather
pumps down Main Street in sunlight?
ME: I want to. Of course, we want to.
MANAGER: Did you see website? Why real leather pumps disappear from Japan? Why
they all fake leather? Why you all brainwashed? You forget everything. You there,
answer!
ME: Oh, me? Uh, all right.

Me threads her way through the crowd and climbs up on the stage.

ME: Um, first, it was for profit.

MANAGER: Right.
ME: Cheap fake leather pumps don’t last long. They scuff easily and they’re stiff.
They hurt your feet and make them bleed. They’re ruined quickly and you have to buy
new ones right away. The stores only sell cheap fake leather pumps. So, we’re forced to
buy cheap fake leather pumps again. Since they’re cheap and fake, we treat them
poorly and they get ruined. It’s a downward spiral.
MANAGER: Yes, and?
ME: So, as we live like this, we start thinking we want real leather. We walk the back
alleys in search of real leather. I mean, we are brainwashed into walking the alleys,
so we do, and we wear out our cheap fake leather pumps. They get ruined even
faster and we have to buy another pair.
MANAGER: Yes. You spend three, five million yen on fake leather pumps in your
lifetime. What you think? A million is cheap. Borrow money to buy. Stop buying
pumps. You save money. Your feet won’t bleed. They fit best. Only good things. And?

ME: Yes, it’s to dominate women. Because of these pumps we never have any money, so
we flirt with men to make them treat us to meals. In the alleys there are perverts.
Many women are victims of sex crimes. Above all, women lose their confidence
when they wear fake leather. They spend their lives hoping they will have real
leather someday, so wearing fake leather now feels incomplete and they lose
confidence. They search and search but cannot find real leather. And my self without
real leather continues. When humans live in scarcity, we tend to want to believe that
the person we meet in the alley is our other self. And this can lead to murder. Um,
right now... (She takes money out of her pocket.) I only have 30,000 yen on me. Is it
OK if I pay the rest on a payment plan?
MANAGER: Yeah. (He takes the money.)

Me takes off her pumps and puts on the new pair that the Manager had prepared. She
savors the fit and sensation of the shoes.

ME: It is great, after all. I can finally wear these real leather pumps! I am complete!
Her entire body is brimming with joy and confidence. She gives a speech.

ME: That’s right. That is because women are by far the superior organism
over men. Women are smart and have communication skills. We do lose our rationale
sometimes, but we have intuitive understanding that goes beyond reason. We
have elastic minds. Not just our minds, but flexible bodies too. We have a charm
that enchants men. The only thing men can beat women at is brute force. That is
why men have used brainwashing to take money away from women and strip our
confidence. Men are terrified of women and women hate men. Men can sense this
unconsciously, which deepens their fear and makes them want to control women
even more and this makes women hate men more. Men played at murder as
children. We women played house out of love and inventiveness. It is the end of the
era of men. Men, acknowledge your defeat gracefully! Then women will stop hating
you!
MANAGER: OK, play DVD and done.

Mao Maisey’s Manager disappears.

[Projection] Mao Maisey singing “The Sun and the Cobbler on Main Street.”
The song is sung in made-up Chinese and also has Japanese subtitles.

[Projected Subtitles]
“The Sun and the Cobbler on Main Street” Mao Maisey

Let’s bathe in the sunlight It

will warm up our bodies So
pleasantly
Let’s walk down Main Street Of
course
In real leather pumps
The most optimistic The
kindest
The happiest
The nicest The
most fun
The most hard-working
We won’t fear, we won’t hate
We won’t fear, we won’t hate
We won’t fear, we won’t hate
We won’t fear, we won’t hate
We won’t fear, we won’t hate
We won’t fear, we won’t hate

At the end of the song, the phrase repeats and the volume swells.
Me, eyes crossed, dances dizzily. The projection and sound swell and suddenly cut out. Me
comes to. She is in the back alley.
She is alone.

1. 6. Ruin

Me is in a daze, but she begins to walk dizzily. After walking for a while, she speaks to
the audience.

ME: I was walking down a street at night to buy new pumps. There was a rumor that real
leather pumps were sold in a back alley late at night. My pumps were fake leather. The
world is drowning in fake leather pumps. That’s why women on the

street all wear cheap, fake leather pumps as their heels bleed. Somewhere, I know I
will find real leather pumps. As we walk, there are many perverts in the back alley.
There’s a growing number of women who are victims of sex crimes. Also, many
incidents in shoe fraud are aimed at women. This has exhausted our minds and
bodies. And yet I could not stop myself from walking the alleys.

The Other Me (Me 2) enters, her heels making a percussive sound against the ground.
Me 2 is wearing an office worker’s uniform, like Me, and pumps, like the ones Me is
wearing. It is dim, and Me cannot see her too clearly.

ME 2: Are you going to buy real leather pumps?

ME: Yes. I heard they were selling them in the back alley... Me?
ME 2: Yes, Me. It’s Me.
ME: What are you doing, dressed like that?
ME 2: I became an office worker. I’ve never worn a uniform before. In grade school
and middle school, I wore my own clothes. I had a uniform in high school, but it
was the color of green pepper. I just couldn’t accept it. So, my friends Ami and
Kaoru and Masaki gathered signatures for a petition and got rid of the uniform
policy. I wonder what they’re up to now. We were so young and bold and cute. We
had fun with fashion trends. We celebrated our youth. We picked up guys and toyed
with them. We didn’t know what to do with our bodies. They ran away every time.
How I miss those days. So, I never had a uniform my whole life. But when I met
you the other day, I thought I wanted to try wearing a uniform.
ME: I see. How unexpected. I didn’t think you’d ever wear a uniform because you
valued freedom so much.
ME 2: But wearing a uniform is a different kind of freedom. Also, if I’m really honest,
I don’t really like whisky either. I wanted to be cool in front of you. I went home
and felt so embarrassed. I put on airs. I couldn’t get over it for three days. I actually
like Kahlua and milk. It keeps me regular. Oh dear. Am I boring you? Are you OK?
ME: Me...
ME 2: Yes, Me, it’s Me. I said some pretty pretentious things. But actually I was
always very insecure. Meeting you, I realized that. That I was always acting tough.
ME: Me, your pumps!
ME 2: Yes, they’re fake leather. I wear these pumps and bleed from my heels and put
on band-aids at home and wear compression socks and take vitamin C to prepare
for the next day. But I don’t have any money. Before I started working at the office

where I am, I was looking for work to buy these pumps while I had a part-time job
selling cell phones for Y-Mobile. I wanted to sell phones. I was scared of SoftBank and
Docomo, but I thought Y-Mobile would be OK. There, I didn’t know at all what I
was doing, but I learned how to use LINE and Tsum Tsum...
ME: Stop it, Me! I... I don’t want to hear such vulgar stories from you. I’m in charge
of all vulgar things. I could tolerate myself because of you, but now I feel like I
can’t tolerate myself anymore!

Me 2 repeats all the movements she has been making since she entered (the gesture
of sweeping her hair up, moving her upper body back and forth, and looking at her
pumps) and gradually these movements grow bigger.

ME 2: The Russian playwright Anton Chekhov said if a rifle appears on stage it must
go off. In other words, if a phallus appears on stage, it must ejaculate, especially
if it’s a giant cock. That’s why, since I am a woman, I must secrete breast milk,
especially because I have huge tits. That’s the way the world works.

The repetition of her movement grows more and more intense. The stage becomes bright
to reveal Me 2, scantily dressed. She has enormous breasts, and from between her
breasts grows a huge phallus. In her uniform pocket, she has a hot dog bun.

ME 2: I exchanged information with a male Y-Mobile client on LINE and I put his
cock in my mouth. The first time was after work. We met to eat ramen, I think. He
had asked me to go out for ramen. We were going to meet in front of a convenience
store. I was hungry so I bought a hot dog bun. It’s only 100 yen and pretty filling.
Do you know? They’re delicious. They have margarine inside. Hot dog buns are the
 best. Cheap and delicious. So, when I had the bun in my mouth, the man showed
up and saw me and said (in Man’s voice) “If you eat that, you won’t be able to eat
ramen.” But I said ramen alone won’t fill me up. I thought I’d curb my appetite
with this bun. The man laughed. (In Man’s voice.) “Hahahahahahaha.” And in the
restroom of the convenience store I took his giant manhood—in other words, his
giant cock—and put it in my mouth.
Since then, I put his giant cock in my mouth every night. I have a giant cock for a night
cap, not whiskey. I’m sorry I lied.
And then one night in my sleep, I mistook this man’s giant cock for a hot dog bun
and I bit off his giant cock and ate it. The man screamed, (in Man’s voice) “It’s not a

hot dog bun!” and that woke me up. But it was too late. It was delicious. After I ate
his giant cock, he died. And then in between my huge breasts grew a giant cock. So
now I am big-breasted and huge-cocked.

Me 2’s violent movements throw the wig off of her head.

We cannot tell who she is anymore.
We begin to see the unadorned form of the performer—in other words, Actor B.

ME 2: And I was pregnant. (In Senior Colleague’s voice.) “So I gave birth to a boy
and he had a really big cock.” And I gave my baby milk from my huge breasts. I
raised him, and he called me Holstein. (In Senior Colleague’s voice.) “Hey Holstein,
give me milk!” he’d say. I’d moo and give him milk. He was adorable. Since he
was born, my breasts have produced milk the whole time. I have too much milk.
Goodness. If I don’t let it out, my breasts get hard and painful. Do you want some
fresh-squeezed milk? I can make you a Kahlua and milk.

Me takes the fur stole that had been in her shirt and gingerly approaches Me 2. She
then wraps the stole around Me 2’s neck and strangles her to death.
Me 2 breathes her last breath.
Me takes the hot dog bun from Me 2’s pocket and stuffs it into her mouth.
Me exits, dragging Me 2’s body.

1. 7. In fact, I’m dancing!

Me enters, dizzily, eating the bun. After walking for a while, she addresses the audience.

ME: I was walking down a street at night to buy new pumps. There was a rumor that
real leather pumps were sold in a back alley late at night. My pumps were fake leather.
 I grilled Me’s flesh and ate it like steak. Every day, little by little. It was delicious.
I wonder if this makes me the strongest possible self ?
(She looks at the audience. She eats the bun.)
I'm lying. I didn’t eat her. Since I heard about hot dog buns from Me, I can’t help
but eat them. I have this tendency to eat things that I’ve seen or heard about other

people eating. Why is that? Why am I like this?

(She looks at the audience.)
When I was a kid, I’d tie a string around some bread and hang it into the gutter to catch
crawfish. There were tons of crawfish in the gutter. I would catch tons of them. I love
bread. I wanted to eat the bread and felt conflicted about using it to catch stinky
crawfish. Seemed like a good deal for the crawfish. Such soft, sweet, white food
shouldn’t exist in the gutter. The crawfish would go into a frenzy and I would catch
countless of them on my line. I used the bread out of spite. I filled my bucket full of
crawfish. And in the bucket the crawfish began to eat each other.
(By now, Me has eaten the bun entirely.)
I wondered where my bread went. I took the crawfish home and kept them in the
scorching sun in the yard. The water in the bucket boiled. The crawfish were cooked.
They turned a vibrant red and curled up. If I had peeled those freshly boiled crawfish
and eaten them, would I have gotten my bread back? The crawfish offered me nothing
in return. They just took my bread and died selfishly. And I had somehow killed
someone. I wish it were a human tendency. I wish I had been brainwashed. I wish it
had been a gift from God. I wanted an explanation for why I had been made to dance
like this. Why am I like this?
(She looks at the audience.)
Nevertheless, (she touches her belly) what is fueling my innards right now is a hot dog
bun. That’s the truth. It’s also true that dancing generates heat in one’s body. So, what
makes my body warm is not a song, nor the sun, but my self. That’s the truth. (Me
begins to dance as if she is being manipulated by some invisible force, like a
marionette.)
I am definitely being danced by someone. Someone is making me dance.
(Me allows herself to dance fully, forcefully.)
But it’s fun. In fact, I will dance!

When the dance reaches its height, blackout. The

afterimage of Me dancing remains.

The End
NOTES
1. 1. Ayu, Amuro, and Aiko refer to the well-known female J-pop singers, Ayumi
Hamasaki, Namie Amuro, and Aiko Yanai, respectively.
2. 2. Natto is a traditional Japanese food made of fermented soybeans. Often eaten at
breakfast, natto is considered an acquired taste due to its powerful smell, strong flavor, and
mucilaginous texture.
3. 3. Haruki Murakami is a celebrated Japanese writer and novelist whose works
include Norwegian Wood and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. The most recent of his many
international literary honors is the Jerusalem Prize. Murakami’s work has been translated into
more than fifty languages.
4. 4. Ama-natto is a Japanese traditional confectionery made of adzuki or other beans
covered with refined sugar after simmering with sugar syrup and drying. The resemblance of
the name to the fermented bean dish natto is coincidental.
5. 5. Dogeza involves kneeling directly on the ground and bowing to prostrate oneself
while touching one’s head to the floor.