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“Ah, that feels good! I’m drunk, dammit!” Tucking up the skirt
of his kimono, Senkichi strutted around like a craftsman, with his
arms inside his kimono and fists on his shoulders. Shin’ichi and I,
and finally even Mitsuko, tucked our skirts into our sashes, thrust
our fists up to our shoulders just like Miss Kichiza in the kabuki play,
and marched unsteadily around the room, crying, “Dammit, I’m
drunk!” and rolling over with laughter.
“Hey, Master Shin’ichi! Shall we play Fox?” said Senkichi, as if
he’d had a brilliant idea. The plan was that Senkichi and I would be
two peasants out to get rid of a fox, but instead we’d be bewitched
by Mitsuko— a fox in the form of a woman— and then rescued by
Shin’ichi, a passing samurai, who would dispose of the animal himself.
Still drunk, the three of us agreed immediately and began our
drama. First, Senkichi and I made our entrance. Wearing twisted
towels around our heads and brandishing dusters, we said, “Seems
like a wicked fox has been up to no good in these parts. Let’s have a
go at getting rid of him today.”
Mitsuko the fox came toward us from the other side, saying,
“Hello, hello. Come on— follow me, and I’ll give you something good
to eat.” She tapped us on the shoulder, and instantly we fell under
her spell.
“Well, well! Ain’t she a lovely lady!,” we said, making eyes at her.
Mitsuko seemed to be having a wonderful time. “You’re bewitched
now, both of you, so if I give you a turd to eat, you’ve got
to gulp it down.” Giggling, she heaped up filthy piles of bean- jam
dumplings she’d already bitten into, buckwheat buns she’d crushed
underfoot, and roasted beans she’d kneaded with snot. Then, after
setting the plates out before us, she spat phlegm and saliva into
some white saké and said, “Pretend this isn’t saké but pee. Here,
gentlemen, have a drink!”
“Oh, it’s delicious, delicious,” we cried, devouring everything
hungrily, though the white saké and beans tasted strangely salty.
22 ■ the gourmet club