My friends adore Yakisoba: It's cheap; the food is great; the portions are huge; you get these little, bento boxey thingy wingies that have all sorts of goody woodies in them. Everything is so cutesy pie. Of course it is, it's Japanese. One of my friends, who shall be known as Miss W_____, squeals every time it's mentioned like she's experiencing a Lawrentian crisis. Think about this men; if you aren't managing with your willy, simply drop in the name of a good restaurant. Anyway, back to Yakisoba
The food is tasty, I'll grant the Yakisoba folk that. And the Bento boxes are a very nice touch. On some occasions I have considered foregoing a starter because the portions are so large. Ridiculous, by the way, to forego a starter. Often, they are less disappointing than the main. Anyway, by the end of it all I feel quite satisfied.
However, during the night I wake with an incredible thirst. I try to scream for water but my tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth; My lips are shrivelled and dry like a dog's arse; I feel as though I've had acid poured down my throat. The water potential is so extreme a strange mist is gathering around me. I've consumed so much salt I'm dying. I need water. I try to move but my legs, consumed by crystals, shatter into tiny fragments of flesh. I try to think but my electrical circuits are disrupted; thoughts are flying all over the place and without control. I think of Shirley Bassey and nearly have a heart attack. My hearts done for anyway; every time it takes a beat I hear a fizzing noise; that can't be good. Suddenly a screech invades my ears; it's so loud it wakes my girlfriend. And then...Total blackness. And all because I ate at Yakisoba. And all because their chef loves salt.