[Contest Entry 2011] Hopeless and Out of Love in Winter Time

I went to a concert as a kid, and I was fascinate by the bassist, who basically just stood there and plucked a bass, and said nothing. At this point I thought, “Hell, I could do that. If not decently, at least poorly!” So, I learned the bass, to which my father reacted, “Don’t you want to learn guitar and be all like Van Halen and go bobobolelelelo-pa?” I replied no, because it was easier to be the bassist, as I only had four strings to worry about. Then rap came out, which relied heavily on thumping bass, with no quality control, and I was psyched, as now all I needed was to just plug my bass in and crank the volume.
So, when I was confident enough that I knew a little bit of playing bass poorly, and I was eighteen, I went to the clubs and looked for ads, and I struck a home run: a bunch of white kids into some cartoons from Japan they called †˜Annie-May’, which made no sense until I learned they weren’t talking about some girl from the 1940s, that they just had horrible pronunciation of the Japanese language.
We did a ton of songs for the opening sequence of anime and got popular. But then the DVD player came out, and the denizens of Japan where we had moved realized, as did much of the world, †˜Hey, this band sucks, and now I can skip the opening!’ And then the internet took my job. I mean, I kind of get it, as even now when I see a CD I pity the person releasing it more than the fact that I just shelled out three thousand yen for a mini-album. The internet allowed a lot of things, like letting my look at perverted Japanese comics on the go on this site called †˜FAKKU!’, where inexplicably some white guy wore the head of a horse at conventions, which I decided early on that I could probably find out why, but didn’t want to.
However, I had a lot of time to do this as my band broke up, and decided to go into this new genre called Visual-Kei, which consisted of a lot of guys looking like girls and playing metal, which I initially laughed at, however, I regret not getting in on it, as all I needed to do was wear a dress and get a few piercings, and bam, instant job.
Instead, I was a foreigner with permanent resident status, no college education, and not a lot of money, and an apartment in Shibuya. But, at the urging of friends on the “FAKKU!” message board, I began to write a book about Japanese squid pornography. So, winter 2011 found me doing freelance work for any Japanese pop band that needed some bass. At this point, I stopped sending CDs of what I was working on back home to my brothers and sisters, as it would have made them worry more if they knew a thirty-year old virgin was playing a song called †˜Happy Smiles X Valentine’s Choco!’
“Oi, Dav-eh…Deb? No…Dev?....No…I got this….Debito!” Said my boss on the other line.
“Yeah. That is my name,” it was actually David, but, the guy tried so hard I couldn’t break his little heart, “What’s up?”
“Well, Mao-tan is going to be on a Christmas special, and I thought you might like the extra work!”
So, I got up early on Christmas Day, and looked at my phone, which contained all of my siblings (three), who lived at home having sent me both a text message from their cellphones. Of course, this was a reverse Christmas present, as now I would have to try and convince the Japanese cellphone company, “I know they have my same last name, but I don’t know these crazy prankster foreigners! Don’t bill me!”
As my body greeted the cold outside, I walked down the street and saw two lines, and asked the old policemen what they were. “Well, on the left you have a bunch of shut-in NEETs lined up to get a cake “made” by a heroine from a video game, and on the right is everyone lined up for an American Christmas meal.”
“What is the American Christmas meal?”
“Well, Kentucky Fried Chicken. That’s what you guys eat for Christmas back in America, right?”
“Yeah…yeah, Hattori-san.”
One thing I had never gotten over of about living in Tokyo was that I had to endure not having a girlfriend on Christmas and Valentine’s Day, as they were both celebrated nearly the same way. So, I took on the role of †˜Curmudgeon the Outlying Foreigner’ as I mistakenly passed through the love hotel shortcut to the station.
In the end, playing a Christmas special only further depressed me, as the songs required even less effort than usual, which was saying something, and allowed me to think during the song, †˜What am I doing?’
“Hey, Dae…Dev…Deb…no…ah….some of us were going to go have dinner together, do you want to come and have Christmas with us?”
At that moment I realized that if I went home, I would be obligated to try and feel happy, fail, and be saddened so I said sure.
“Do you want some more chicken?” Honestly, I would have thought that a pop star and her group would not be chowing down on fried chicken at eight in the evening of Christmas, but call me old-fashioned.
“I…ate too many of the fried shrimp and cheese biscuits, but thanks.”
And thus, it appeared the last hours of Christmas would be spent remarking in my mind, “Really, David? You ate fried chicken to celebrate the birth of Jesus? You couldn’t just stop writing the book about squid porn? Shouldn’t you stop trying, as your efforts are becoming worse than no effort.”
“Oi, Debito!”
“Ah, yeah Mao-san.”
“Want to go and do something? I don’t want to go home quite yet, it would be so boring to go back to the company dorms!”
It was like one of those moments in a dating sim where you don’t even need to put in a choice as it is pretty obvious what everyone would do. Of course, if there were two choices it would have looked like “Self-Loathing and Work on Your Manuscript versus Bumming Around Town with a Girl and Enjoying Making Everyone Think You Have a Girl”.
But, the joke was on me, as I quickly remembered Mao was in high school, and not sleeping well recently made me look like a creepy businessman about to do horrible things to an innocent girl. But, nothing went horribly wrong, and we ended up going to derelict “retro” clothes stores, which I failed to mention to Mao, but they were really just a bunch of actual old clothes in consignment shops.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“No problem, Mao,” and I instantly regretted not using an honorific, as I now could have been the picture for the ad of Desperation eau’ de cologne.
Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when she kissed me, and then proceeded to invite me into her apartment, and then realizing it was the company’s, and then suggesting we go to mine, which was fine, but beyond anticlimactic, no pun intended. And once we got there, I was only somewhat displeased with the fact that she said only botched versions of my name, which she could not pronounce.
But, this was basically instant regret, as all you needed for instant regret was to add a hot high school idol to a thirty-something’s life and instant regret is a go, not to mention I was an out of work bassist writing a book about how there is literary importance in squids molesting girls in cartoons. So, I was relatively elated when it turned out she was of age, and finishing up high school.
By the next Christmas, I had found myself with a lovely girlfriend, no longer an idol, who was going to college, and draining my bank account, but, my back-up career plan kicked in and my book, “A Brief History of the Influence of Squids and Octopuses on Japanese Pornography” inexplicably became a bestseller, largely due to a bunch of people on “FAKKU!” popularizing it.
Once I was formally engaged to Mao a year after we met, at her insistence, we flew to America, which was now the epitome of awkward.
“So, let me get this straight. You are engaged.”
“Yes.”
“To a nineteen year old.”
“Yes.”
“Way to go lil’ bro, get some!”
“Horace, shut the hell up!”
Needless to say, it was painful, especially when my sister in middle-school, who was now a radical feminist lesbian, said I was degrading women’s rights, and promptly kicked me in between the legs. But, being labeled as a masochistic deformation of humanity beat playing bass to bad pop songs and eating fried chicken.

Gotta admit, this is 10x better then me :3 great job

Thanks! I wad nervous to enter, but I appreciate the praise.

so am I don't worry about it

This was...Actually pretty good! I like the title(=3) and the story you have going on~
A few things though...
Firstly, the spacing. I won't say that it is wrong, i just feel it's pretty messy. It kind of made my eyes hurt trying to make sense of it(no offense).
Nothing else really...I think.

Being nervous is nothing strange, i was too when i entered. This is actually the first time i ever entered any sort of competition. But the important thing is enjoy yourself, and don't feel too bad if you lose. Because, no matter how good anyone is, there IS always someone better than you. Best thing to do is live and learn, no?

Nonetheless, good luck with the competition!

Why does it hurt for people to use some goddamn space? Oh well, not like it can be changed anymore.

Well, honestly, this is how real novels are supposed to be spaced. It's just that Fakku is incapable of indenting, so the paragraphs blend together.

Sorry for not thanking everyone, my computer crashed...I really appreciate the support and feedback!

Well done! it sure puts a lot of things in perspective. Thanks for the read.

...This is kinda interesting. It's one of those stories that you can start from the beginning of any sentence and still get something out of it, so I like that. There weren't many descriptions, but for the amount of story content, it allows user imagination as well: A double-edge sword if there was any...

But overall, I think that this is a solid piece. A great read for anyone thinking to chill out and relax on a book. I imagine that further edits in a unlimited word count would only hurt the story, which is actually really good becuase that marks the story to be a natral for the contest =D

Thanks Funk! I hope I pick up some more votes today :-(

Something about the main character just doesn't allow me to build any sort of connection to the guy. Maybe because he's a real bum, lacking any sort of drive for a good part of his life. But, that's my opinion. To be a little bit more critical, I feel like Mao enteres into the story alsmot out of nowhere. I feel like its very abrupt... she just all of a sudden decides to go, "Oi! Debito!" I mean, she's only seen him this once, since he was called in. And even with the advent of DVD's and what not, there is always iTunes. If they were really bad, I doubt that the anime company would have hired them to start off with. Sorry, if I sound like I'm coming off strong, I'm actually just ranting. No offense intended.

However, I will say that these lines:
“So, let me get this straight. You are engaged.”
“Yes.”
“To a nineteen year old.”
“Yes.”
“Way to go lil’ bro, get some!”
“Horace, shut the hell up!”
Were absolutely excellent. Made me literally laugh out loud for a second.

lol, breaker, it is fine, I appreciate the advice. I churned this out from something I had thought up in my head, but, it was longer. And to answer some of your questions, I felt I implied he had worked with Mao before, but, re-reading it, I can see how some might have missed that. And the band, well, just imagine a J-Pop band from the 90s that never evolved :-). And the main character is meant to be a total loser. Thanks for the advice, seriously! I kind of want to churn out another story now just to see if people think it is better...