... and I farted.
now listen to me young man, i am talking directly into your ear now. i need you to do me a favor. you will do this for me. i need you to go to yoshinoya, and i need you to ask the bastard working the u-shaped counter if they have omori negidaku with an egg. if you come back empty handed youll be in big trouble mister. you will never see the light of day.
Hey man, it's good to see you! I haven't seen you in ages, seems like you don't go out much, huh?
I was just about to head out for some Yoshinoya, you interested? You said you were a Yoshinoya fan, right?
Sorry, a Yoshinoya veteran. That's what I meant.
Anyways, it's just up the street. Let's go, I'm starving!
Wow, it's busy, huh! Must be the lunch rush.
Oh sweet, they've got a discount on! 150 yen off, huh.
All right, what do you think you'll order? I'm thinking the extra large with---
What?
No, I don't think he's staring at you.
Start a fight? What are you talking about? Do you know that guy or something?
I can ask him to move if you want.
Uh, you feeling okay?
Right, yeah.
Okay, yeah, don't worry about it buddy. It's fine.
Anyway, you said you wanted extra large with extra onion, right?
Extra green onion, sorry.
Yeah, okay, I got it. I think I'll go with the same but with extra sauce.
Hey, you see that waitress over there? I'd like to give her some extra sauce if you know what I---
Uh, you okay? Speak up a bit, I can't hear you mumbling under your breath like that.
Interrogate me? What are you talking ab---
Woah!
Woah, easy buddy. Just chill.
Put the knife down, okay? We're all friends here, right?
Easy, just put the---
Okay, sorry. Sorry. Let's just put the knife down, okay?
What?
The---
Yeah, sure, I'll order today's special. Whatever you say, man. Just take some deep breaths, okay?
Okay.
Actually, uh, how's about we just head home, maybe? Seems like you're having a bad day.
Yeah, yeah.
I'll see you around. Take care of yourself, okay?
In my restless dreams, I see that place.
Yoshinoya.
You promised me you'd take me there again someday.
But you never did.
Well, I'm alone there now...
Ordering our 'special dish'...
Waiting for you...
My family has had bad luck with the new local Dairy Queen in Dallas on Coit Rd just north of Belt Line. We have been through the drive thru every time except for once, and about half of the time our order was messed up when we arrived home. On New Years Day 2017, I visited the local DQ around 12:30PM. I waited for over 15 minutes in the drive thru, so I went into the restaurant to get my food. I was told that they were waiting on french fries, which should not take 15 minutes. When they brought my food, I quickly checked it to make sure that it was correct. Well, since the last time we ordered a plain hot dog it was not plain, I checked the one that I was just given. The above picture is what I found. I showed it to the manager and he offered to make a new one, but I told him that I did not want to wait any longer and I left. So beware, if you don't like your Dairy Queen hot dogs looking like they died an unnatural death, then get the chili on the side and make sure you get a look before you bite, because who would want to take a bite of a hot dog like the one in this picture?
I asked DQ headquarters for my money back twice (because I will not get food from that restaurant again), and they ignored my request. So I decided to spend $$ to put this lovely picture online. Dairy Queen, please take care of your customers when you make mistakes.
Yoshinoya appeared to me in a dream and said "Fuck off gaijin! This place is not for you!" and I woke up hungry.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. I know what I'm about to say sounds crazy, but just hear me out, okay?
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways it was eerily quiet. Not even any staff behind the counter.
The lights were on and the doors were open, but there was no one there.
They didn't even have the usual discount promotion banner hanging from the ceiling.
Anyways, I was about to leave, when I noticed an unmarked door slightly ajar towards the back of the room.
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, I have to admit, I was a bit curious what went on back there, so I took a few cautious steps inside.
Oh, the stupidity. I was such an idiot.
I'd give anything to have just gotten out of there when I had the chance.
The bare concrete corridor stretched out ahead of me, perhaps a little further than it should have given the dimensions of the building.
"Hello? Anyone there?" I called out. God, I can't bear to remember it.
There was no response but the buzz of the fluorescent strip lighting overhead.
As I approached the corner at the end of the corridor, my chest suddenly went tight. I hadn't even noticed I was holding my breath.
I turned the corner and what confronted me was this, a locked door.
That's right, a locked door. I was almost relieved when the handle wouldn't budge.
There was a faint savoury smell, with just a hint of something sickly-sweet underneath, like rotting fruit.
I thought it was coming from behind the door until I heard the low, droning creak from immediately behind me.
Perhaps she had once been an employee. Perhaps not.
She was roughly humanoid, and wearing the Yoshinoya uniform, but the rest of her was all wrong.
Her hands looked like bundles of twigs with skin stretched over them. Her joints articulated the wrong way.
And her face... the whole jaw was just gone, and there was some sort of origami floret of raw meat in its place.
Her eyes... I don't want to think about it.
What in the world are you, you freak?
I wanted to run. I wanted to run and scream and cry for at least an hour.
The door behind me wouldn't open, of course, and she was between me and the exit.
She laughed, or gurgled in an amused sounding way at least.
Is this REALLY something to laugh about?
Are you sure you aren't just trying to scare me?
Anyways, what happened next, I don't really know how to talk about.
All I have is a torrential kaleidoscope of raw sensation and experience.
My face pressed against the griddle. The smell of burnt flesh and the hiss and pop of my own bubbling fat.
Every bubble of grease burning the inside of my lungs as I drown in beef broth.
My own body, heaped in green onion, cut apart and masticated and swallowed and digested by some family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya. How fucking mad.
It makes no sense, and I can't make it make sense to you because I can't even make it make sense to myself.
Somehow, I stumbled out, alive and unhurt. It felt like a lifetime had passed but my watch said it was less than an hour.
Yoshinoya is a bloody place, in ways I don't even have the vocabulary to describe.
I can't recommend it to anyone.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stay the hell away from that place. I'm serious.
https://4-ch.net/dqn/kareha.pl/1680434551/556
This advanced linguistic research on the Yoshinoya rant needs to be preserved for posterity.
Also 400GET
So I managed to pick up a pot of Samyang 2x spicy hot chicken flavor, and I have been happily storing it away until this evening when I planned to finally tuck in.
I found the instructions very clear and easy to follow. I found the bowl design of the packaging fantastically efficient. I fried some bacon and mushrooms to add to the noodles and can clearly see how ramen so quickly became a staple food in Eastern climes.
What I did not expect was the life altering revelation that Samyang would bring to me. A moment of such clarity of spirit and placement within the wide universe that I felt as if I was looking at myself from without.
In this moment of catharsis I discovered that there are two types of bucket-lists.
One is the normal super fun lists of things you want to do in the life.
The other is a not so fun list of things you never want to learn about yourself.
Today I learned I am a bitch. But not just any type of bitch.
Have you ever met one of those absolute chodes that goes around saying stuff like, "I love spicy food," - "Nothing is too hot for me." - "If I could bottle hellfire I'd sprinkle it on my chips." And then folds like a cheap trick at the first sing of heat.
Today, laddies and djents, I am that chode.
Here and now I swear blind that I'll never again attest that I eat hot all the time. Or that I love jalapenos. Or that I put chili flakes on everything.
I am a heat-bitch, and I see that now. Samyang 2x spicy scorched my soul from my lean flanks, twisted me once around the sun, and sat me back down, blistered and burned, to revel at the scope of my folly.
There is no god, only heat. Yet still I pray that my lips will cease to hurt.
Pray for me if you can.
I've been watching a stream of AI-driven conversations that uses the dragon ball Z characters, and I decided to throw in the Yoshinoya rant...
> Oh hey Nanashi! "The vet's way of eating", right? Ahaha!
Shit. I've been marked. That was a warning shot.
I can never fucking come to this godforsaken place again.
Even if it means driving an extra hour out of town, I will do it.
You can't be too careful in this island nation.
Because if someone really scary wants to get you, there's no escape route.
If only I had pretended to be an amateur for a day!
>>404
Yosinoya should be a hygienic place.
That mutually respectful atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can use the same communal ginger bowl without fear of contamination,
the be-clean-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Waifu Natto Kiss. My wife was having her usual breakfast with Natto (which I despise). I was in a rush to leave and gave her a quick but somewhat passionate kiss on the lips. As I pulled my head back, our lips were still connected by a slimy trail of Natto. I tried to remove it with my hand, but it was very difficult and messy, and my white t-shirt ended up tarnished with Natto.
Accepting defeat, I left the house as a Natto-tarnished Kaishain. With no time to change, I had to head to work with slimy lips and a shirt stained by Natto, or risk being late.
Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great gyūdon restaurant Yoshinoya just opened in town. Go and order yourself today's special. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor... I am a Yoshinoya veteran."
>>1 waited. The 150 yen off banner above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were idiots in the Yoshinoya. He didn't see them, but had expected them, now for years. His warnings to 2ch were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
>>1 was a Yoshinoya veteran for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the diners and he said to dad "I want to order extra green onion, daddy."
Dad said "NO! YOU WILL BE MARK BY THE EMPLOYEES FROM NEXT TIME ON!"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the Yoshinoya; you know, Yoshinoya? he knew there were idiots.
"This is 2ch," the radio crackered. "You must interrogate the idiots!"
So >>1 told the women and children to screw off and stay home.
"HE GOING TO INTERROGATE US," said the idiots!
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." said the family of four and he ordered the extra-large with extra sauce. >>1 couldn't bear to watch and tried to interrogate him for roughly an hour. But then the U-shaped table fell and they were trapped and not able to interrogate.
"No! I must interrogate the idiots," he shouted!
The radio said "No, >>1. You are the idiots."
And then, >>1 should've just stuck with today's special.
"With a U-shaped table, you can start a fight anytime you want" he said to himself, out loud.