A Magnificent Spread

A Magnificent Spread It was Sunday morning, and my husband and I were having breakfast.

We bought all our meals via the online store Happy Future Foods, which sold everything from soup with cubed frozen vegetables to Future Oatmeal and freeze-dried bread and salad. Facing each other across the table, we put a variety of products reminiscent of space food into our mouths.

Happy Future Foods had the slogan “We deliver food for the next generation to your dining table” and was touted as being popular with celebrities in other countries. My husband was completely sold on the store, and nowadays practically all the food on our table came from there.

Most of it was either frozen or freeze-dried, which saved us the trouble of cooking it, but it was expensive, so we ended up spending a lot. As I put the green-colored Future Oatmeal into my mouth, I thought I’d better brush my teeth with whitening powder straight after eating.

My smartphone rang, and I peered at the screen to see that it was my little sister. I answered the call and went to sit on the sofa.

“What’s up, Kumi? It’s not like you to call so early.”

“Are you free on the first Sunday of next month?” she asked, speaking unusually fast. “My fiancé’s parents are coming over for lunch that day.”

“What?” I was speechless. I hadn’t even known that she had a boyfriend!

“It’s the first time I’m meeting them, and I’m supposed to be cooking some dishes from home for them.”

“Eh? You don’t mean . . .”

“So I want you to come and help me. Please?”

“When you say dishes from home, Kumi, do you mean—”

“We’ll do lunch with my parents another time, so this time it’ll be just my boyfriend and his parents, you and me, and I want to prepare food for the five of us. You’ll help, won’t you? Please? I’ll be back in touch when the details are settled,” she said, and hung up.

“Was that Kumi?” asked my husband, who was sitting at the table eating his Future Oatmeal. “What was she saying?”

“She says she’s going to meet her fiancé’s parents.”

“Wow! Big news!”

He was drinking a Happy Future diet drink with his meal. It was all the rage lately, a complete health drink that meant you didn’t need to take any other supplements. It consisted of a pale blue powder that you mixed into carbonated water, and contained a bacterium developed by NASA that would supposedly rejuvenate you and give you a muscular body.

“So Kumi’s getting married! Well, she is almost thirty, after all, just about the right age.” He looked really happy.

I put my phone down on the table and told him, “And she says she is going to cook some dishes from home for them.”

“What? No way!!” My husband’s face turned white, and he shot to his feet, still holding his drink. “No, no, she mustn’t do that. This is a serious occasion!”

“That’s what she said, and you know she won’t budge an inch if she’s made a decision.”

“Yes, I know, but her whole life could be affected by this meeting!”

He looked so furious that I sighed and said, “I guess . . . well, we’ll just have to try to change her mind before then, won’t we . . .”

Kumi was three years younger than me, and she’d been in junior high when she suddenly announced, “In my previous life, I was a kind of warrior in the magical city of Dundilas.”

“You were?” I was in senior high school by then, and I just listened quietly without contradicting her.

“Now I’m living in Japan as the child of ordinary parents,” she said, “but in the magical city of Dundilas I had supernatural powers, which I used on missions fighting enemies. I’ve been reborn temporarily in this body. I’m just borrowing it for now, and once it comes to the end of its life, I intend to go back home.”

“Is that so?”

She apparently had quite a complex setup in her mind, and every now and then she would tell me all kinds of things about her previous life. I didn’t actually dislike hearing her talk about it.

“I am grateful to this family for caring for me, but sometimes I really miss the world of my former life,” she would occasionally say, her voice sad. At those times, she looked like she might actually go back to wherever Dundilas was. From her perspective, the people of her former life were her real family, and my parents and I were probably more like strangers to her.

“I suppose you do.”

I always listened to her sympathetically.

“You should have stopped her right there,” my mother grumbled.

By then Kumi had already started telling some of her close friends at school about her previous life, and rumors about her had spread throughout the school.

I thought she’d probably get over it when she went to senior high school, but lots of her friends from junior high went on to the same school and she’d been in too deep to back out. Her graduation album was full of messages saying things like, “Take me with you to the magical city sometime, okay?” and “Keep fighting those enemies!”

She’ll have to stop when she goes to university, my mother said, but I wasn’t so sure. And as I’d thought, when some friends from her club came over, I overheard them in her room talking about her magical world.

“Kumi, you’re a master of the dark forces, after all.”

“Yep. Don’t tell anyone, though.”

Around that time, a friend told me about “adolescent delusion syndrome.” I was impressed that there was a name for my sister’s phenomenon, but it was only a slang term and not an officially recognized illness.

And so Kumi entered adulthood still behaving like someone with superpowers.

Watching her as she grew up, never giving an inch about her other life, I couldn’t help feeling some kind of respect for her. I began to think that the coarse slang term didn’t apply to her after all. She was more serious than that, and it wasn’t just a passing phase.

She went to work for a company where she was the only new graduate among middle-aged men, and they indulged her strange

pronouncements with affectionate comments—“You’re a funny one, Kumi-chan.” Normally someone like her would be made fun of or ostracized, but somehow she was blessed with people who understood her. She didn’t have many friends, but there were always some at her side who listened to her stories about the magical city of Dundilas without ever making fun of her.

My mother didn’t understand her at all and tried to make her stop fantasizing by yelling at her, and I often had to intervene to protect my sister. They didn’t get on at all well, and after graduating from university, Kumi left home and started living alone.

It was around that time when she started eating weird things. She began cooking for herself, saying she was making food from the magical city of Dundilas. Whenever she went out, she would eat normal things, such as curry or steak, but at home she apparently always ate her special food.

Kumi and I were both born and bred in the humdrum suburbs of Saitama, and I don’t know why she turned out this way. Still, as long as she was happy, I didn’t have any problem with it.

I had never eaten her food from the magical city of Dundilas, though. I liked hearing her stories, but I found the food she was eating downright scary. I couldn’t summon the courage to put such weird-looking food into my body. And if I, who understood my sister’s world quite well, couldn’t eat it, then the idea of serving this food to her fiancé’s parents was hardly advisable. As my husband had made clear, we had to stop Kumi from carrying out this plan.

“You’re old enough to know better, Kumi,” Mom screeched. “Just stop it!”

I grimaced. The three of us were having dinner together at an Italian restaurant. Mom and I had waited outside Kumi’s office and managed to grab her as she left work to bring her here.

“It’s all very well saying stop . . . but stop what?” she asked.

Mom was getting emotional, but Kumi kept her cool. What Mom seemed to be saying was that Kumi should be cured of being herself, which I agreed was over the top.

“I don’t think there’s any particular need for you to change, Kumi,”

I told her honestly. “But I do think making other people eat your food is problematic. Even if some people understand your magical city of Dundilas, eating the food you make is another matter. It’s not like it’s exactly believable.”

“What do you mean, believable?” She looked at me calmly, aware that I was more likely to understand her than Mom was.

“When you eat the food someone makes for you, it means you believe in the world they live in, right? Even if people have fun hearing about your world, putting it into their mouth is another matter.

I think food is all weird anyway, so there’s no way I can eat it unless I believe in it.” I pointed at the plate of pasta in front of me. “For example, this pasta with peach and coriander—since it’s made in a restaurant like this by a respectable chef, I can delight in eating it. If one of the local elementary school kids brought it in a Tupperware box, though, I’d probably think pasta with peach sounded disgusting and wouldn’t be able to eat it. It’s only when we believe in the person who makes it that we’re able to put weird stuff in our mouth.”

“You’re so matter-of-fact, aren’t you?” Kumi said to me.

“Maybe I am.”

The Happy Future Food that my husband and I ate wasn’t all that different from the magical city of Dundilas food. But the company at least made a good effort to be credible. I believed that eating meant being brainwashed by the particular world of the food, and I just couldn’t bring myself to ingest food from my sister’s unstable, fictitious world.

“Has your fiancé eaten your food, Kumi?”

“Keiichi? No, he hasn’t. He’s seen it, but he said there’s no way he could eat it.”

“You see? ” Mom shouted. Mom being so emotional really wasn’t helping, I thought.

“Of course, the instinct to eat food that is safe is hardwired in us,”

I told Kumi. “So what you have to do is try to convince everyone that your food is safe and that it’s wonderful too, even if it means lying. If you can manage that, I think I’d be able to eat it.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think it’s possible. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who truly believes in the magical city of Dundilas.”

I nodded, grateful that she was being so levelheaded. “Well, that’s true, I guess. So how about cooking something appropriate and safe, like curry or hamburger.”

“Because my boyfriend wants me to cook my food for them.”

“Eh?” I blurted out. “Are you serious? It was his idea?”

“It’s not like I offered, you know. I only ever eat food from the magical city of Dundilas at home. It’s just that Keiichi insisted.”

“Even though he won’t eat it? But why would he want you to cook it?”

She shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he wants us to split up.”

I tilted my head doubtfully. Thinking that my sister’s fiancé sounded like a nutjob, I stuck my fork into a bit of peach and pasta.

When I got home, my husband was making his usual drink, mixing the blue powder in a glass of sparkling water.

“Hi there!” I called. “Is that all you’re having for dinner today, too?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing, this stuff. Ever since I started drinking it, my body feels so light.”

“I see.”

I disliked the way the drink smelled of shampoo, so I’d never actually tried it. And what’s more, a month’s supply cost twenty thousand yen. One of us drinking it was enough.

“How was Kumi?”

I threw my bag down on the sofa and sighed. “Um, it looks like we’re going to be preparing that weird food of hers.”

“Really? Well, I guess she’s finished then,” he said flatly.

I looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the engagement will probably be called off. She’s finished.” He even looked a little happy as he drank his blue drink.

“What a waste, though. Just when she had the chance to lead a normal life. I told my colleagues at work about her, and they all laughed.”

“Really,” I said, for lack of anything better, and opened the fridge to get some water to drink. Inside were rows of Happy Future Food in packs. I took out some mineral water and drank it. What on earth was so different about my husband and my sister, I wondered.

So was there no hope for my sister? Probably not, from a conventional point of view. The reason my husband was so obsessed with eating Happy Future Foods was that he thought it

was food for successful people. He was ingesting a fragment of a wonderful lifestyle.

I found that side of my husband amusing. The more expensive something was, the more he was taken in by it. I’d heard that a scam was more effective if the scammer asked for a million yen rather than a hundred yen, and looking at my husband, I had to conclude it was true. A yearning for “a higher level of living” was what made my husband drink that blue concoction. The pressure on our household budget was a concern, but for some reason I felt refreshed to see him happily drink it down.

The way my husband trusted the world and played up to it felt somehow pure to me. That was probably what I liked about him and why I married him.

The Sunday my sister was to cook for her boyfriend’s parents was a cloudless, bright day.

Her apartment was small, just one room, and our parents’ place was too far away, so it was decided that we would hold the party in my house.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, embarrassed. “Not only did I rope you into helping, but I even borrowed your place!”

I quickly answered, “No problem at all, don’t worry about it.” I was curious to see how her boyfriend’s parents would react.

My husband was out for the day at some sort of conference involving different businesses. It was probably just an excuse to get out of eating my sister’s weird food.

Kumi came over early in the morning, carrying bags full of provisions.

“Dandelions, fish mint . . . is this what we’re eating today?”

“Yep. The setting is medicinal herbs that grow in the magical realm.”

“What’s in this can?”

“That’s the setting of food sold on the black market in the underground arcade in the magical world.”

All my sister’s food had a setting, and even though I didn’t want to taste any of it, I was amused to see how she was always quick to elaborate.

“Look, are you sure it shouldn’t be proper food?”

She shot me a look. “What do you mean, proper food?”

“Like dishes with a name, spareribs or chicken stew or something.”

“So anything with a name is like proper food?”

“A name puts whoever’s eating it at ease, doesn’t it? Even a con man always gives his name.”

“Your theories are always too weird to be of help,” she said with a sigh.

“All right, then . . . anyway, let’s get going. Where shall I start?”

“First I want you to boil the dandelion flowers. See that orange juice over there? Bring that to the boil and put them in it.”

“Okay.”

My sister deftly got on with the cooking. She shredded the fish mint, put it into some flour, added some water, and mixed it up.

“What’s that?”

“The main dish.”

“Does fish mint grow in the magical city of Dundilas?”

“Yeah, lots of it.”

If she said so, then it must be true, I thought. I did as she said and emptied the dandelions out of the bag.

Just after noon, my sister’s fiancé and his parents rang the doorbell.

“My name is Keiichi Sawaguchi, Kumi’s fiancé. Pleased to meet you.”

It was the first time I’d met Kumi’s boyfriend, and he seemed pleasant, not at all the type of weirdo who would purposely get someone to cook dishes from the magical city of Dundilas.

“We’re so sorry for imposing on you today.”

His parents, too, were elegant and mild-mannered. His mother, Sachie, looked easy to get along with, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled, and his father, Eiji, looked strong and rugged, but his manner of bowing was charmingly shy.

“This is my girlfriend, Kumi,” Keiichi said to his parents.

“Pleased to meet you,” Kumi said, bowing her head.

“I’m Kumi’s sister. Thank you for coming all the way here,” I said to them, bowing deeply at her side. “I’m afraid our apartment is a little cramped, but please do come in. My sister’s cooking is very simple, but we hope you will enjoy it.”

The Sawaguchis smiled. “Thank you.”

Sachie and Eiji sat on the far side of the table, with Kumi and Keiichi sitting opposite them. There weren’t enough chairs at the living room table, so I brought my husband’s work chair from his study.

After a short rest, Kumi and I went to the kitchen and brought the first dish to the table.

“What is this?” Sachie asked, peering curiously at it.

“The main dish, apparently,” I explained vaguely. “I’m not sure it’ll be to your taste, so please don’t force yourself to eat it . . . um, I have some barley tea ready here to wash it down with. Here are some tissues and some sick bags.”

“You sure are well prepared!” said Keiichi, smiling.

“And this?”

“Dandelion stems braided and simmered in orange juice.

Underneath are meatballs stuffed with dandelion flowers.”

“Ah . . .”

Stories were fundamental to my sister’s cooking, more important than the flavor. She had told me all about this while we were cooking. The orange juice apparently represented the blood of a primitive monster, while the ground pork imitated synthetic meat sold on the black market in underground malls in the magical city of Dundilas. Dandelions grew profusely in the forests of the magical realm, and she’d often eaten them in her previous life.

I understood the images, but I couldn’t help thinking that as food, it looked pretty disgusting. Apart from anything, I had no idea where she had actually picked the dandelions and fish mint. If she’d picked them in the neighborhood, they must be covered in exhaust fumes.

It seemed the Sawaguchis felt the same way, for they just smiled without making any move to help themselves.

“Um, may I offer you something from our house too?” I said, unable to bear it any longer. “I don’t know whether it will be to your taste either, but you may want a break from such exotic food.”

“Well, er . . . um, thank you.” Sachie looked at me in evident relief.

Perhaps she was not very good at maintaining appearances.

“Having said that, I haven’t prepared anything special, and only have things we always eat at home . . .”

“No problem.”

But their happy expressions clouded when I brought some Happy Future Foods to the table.

“Er . . . what is it?”

“Happy Future Food. It’s really good for you and has an antioxidant effect. It’s extremely popular abroad, so we buy it online.”

“I see . . .”

I laid out some cubes made from freeze-dried vegetables and some fruits powder salad with bright blue dressing. I’d selected items I’d thought were not too off-putting, but the Sawaguchis looked quite taken aback.

“Um, I don’t suppose there’s any plain steamed rice, is there?” Eiji asked timidly.

“Not white rice, but I do have some artificial rice made from a powder filled with antioxidants. Although it is a bit sour and something of an acquired taste . . .” I said, showing them the green artificial rice in a Tupperware box.

“Er . . . never mind,” Sachie muttered.

“Come to think of it, dear, you have some of those snacks with you, don’t you?” Eiji said, suddenly remembering.

“Oh, yes, you’re right!” Sachie nodded. “When Keiichi told us about this lunch, I got the impression that you liked unusual food. I guess I got the wrong end of the hook . . . but anyway, this is from the countryside round our way. I hope you’ll like it,” she said, taking out a paper bag containing various containers stuffed with grubs stewed in soy sauce and syrup. One jar contained what looked like

small white caterpillars, and another jar held something similar but a little larger. Plus a plastic box containing what appeared to be grasshoppers.

There were so many delicious foods from the countryside, so why on earth did she have to bring three types of stewed bugs? I didn’t want to put them in my mouth, so I looked at my sister, who was sitting next to me. She apparently felt the same way, as there was an undisguised look of disgust on her face.

“Um . . . I’m afraid I’m not keen on sweet stewed things,” I said.

“Er, I must say I prefer savory dishes . . .”

“Really?” Sachie said, looking disappointed. “They do taste good with rice, though . . .”

“They make an especially good snack to go with sake,” Eiji added.

“Ah . . .”

The spread on the table now included the dishes from the magical city of Dundilas, the high-quality pouches of Happy Future Food, and the various insects.

I really didn’t want to eat anything I didn’t normally eat, and I looked around at everybody’s faces to see that they all seemed to feel the same way and were sitting expressionlessly, drinking barley tea without making any move to eat.

“You see? ” Keiichi said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“What do you mean?”

Everyone looked bewildered, but Keiichi ignored them and went on. “This is exactly what I wanted to see today.”

I had no idea what he was talking about and looked at my sister for help, but she too was staring at him openmouthed, apparently not

understanding anything either.

“Everyone thinks the food other people eat is disgusting, and they refuse to eat it. And that’s the way it should be, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Keiichi launched into a rant, gesticulating wildly. “What people eat is part of their own culture. It’s the culmination of their own unique personal life experiences. And it’s wrong to force it on other people.”

“Ah . . .” I said, pushing my chair back to avoid being hit by his long arms, which he was waving around as he talked.

“Even if I marry Kumi, I have no intention of eating her cooking.

And there is absolutely no need for her to eat or cook the food that I or my parents eat. We each have our own cultures to live. There is no need whatsoever for us to cater to each other or merge into each other.”

Sachie frowned. “You might well say that,” she said, “but if you keep on eating like you do now, you’re not going to live very long.”

“That’s my business, and the decision is mine alone.”

I couldn’t help asking, “Er, so what do you eat, Keiichi?”

“Keiichi eats only sweets and potato fries,” my sister said.

Keiichi nodded emphatically. “Ever since I was a child,” he said.

“Really? Wow.” He was quite tall, and I was impressed that he could have grown so well on such an unbalanced diet.

“I love sweets and potato fries. If I have my own way, that’s all I’ll eat my whole life. I once lived with a fiancée, but it didn’t last long.

She tried to force me to eat the same things as she did. Even though we had different cultures, she tried to disrupt my life as if that were

normal. Even though we each had our own cultures! We argued every day and eventually split up.”

“I see.”

“I think it’s great that Kumi has her own independent eating habits.

She never caters to anyone else. Nor does she try to impose her culture on anyone else. I think we can live happily together, with her eating what she wants to eat and me eating what I want to eat.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I was beginning to understand why Keiichi and my sister were drawn to each other.

“As a couple, Kumi and I will never eat what the other has cooked.

And I want you to realize this too, Mom and Dad. In our house, if I’m eating chocolate cookies and pizza potato chips and Kumi’s eating her food from the magical city of Dundilas, it doesn’t mean that we’re not getting along. On the contrary, it’s because we love each other’s cultures. And if we visit you in the countryside at New Year’s or in the summer for Obon, I don’t want you forcing your food on her. Our eating habits are dear to us, and I want you to respect them and not interfere—”

Eiji had been listening to this lecture, frowning, but now he interrupted. “But look, Keiichi. Marriage is about two families coming together. It’s about continuing the culture of those families, isn’t it?”

Sachie restrained him. “That’s enough, dear. It’s what Keiichi wants. Deep down, I was hoping that your wife would carry on the food traditions of the Sawaguchi family, but I suppose that was quite arrogant . . .”

“Oh, really!”

Eiji glared at Sachie, but she continued quietly. “I mean, just look at this lunch table. It’s hell on earth! It’s all over the place. Until I got

married, I’d always thought bugs were gross and it was normal to kill them and throw them away. I’d always thought bugs were garbage, but when I married into the Sawaguchi family, I was forced to eat them. When I think about that, everything on this table is garbage—

all of it.”

“Sachie . . .”

“I don’t at all think I was wrong in carrying on your family’s traditions, dear, but just look at the wretched state of this lunch table!

It’s not like in the old days, you know. Nowadays people will gladly tuck into all sorts of strange things. And if we merge our traditions with new ones like this, the food is only going to get creepier.”

“Yes, Mom, that’s exactly what I mean,” Keiichi said happily. “We don’t have to eat out of the same pot to understand each other.”

“You think?” Eiji seemed to have more to say, but seeing the disastrous state of the table, he appeared to resign himself to the situation. “I guess our ideas are obsolete now,” he muttered. “And even if Kumi did carry on our family’s traditions, maybe it doesn’t really matter when you’ll only eat sweets or potato fries anyway . . .”

“Right!” Keiichi shouted.

“I agree!” I couldn’t help shouting. “I think eating something is a matter of trusting the world that produced it. But there’s also sincerity in not trusting something and refusing it. I myself wouldn’t eat these products if my husband didn’t buy them. They’re weird colors, they feel like plastic on the tongue, and they smell like air freshener.

Garbage, as you put it. But I like the way my husband feels about eating them, so I end up just going along with him.”

“I see . . .”

“How about a toast?” Keiichi shouted excitedly. “Here’s to all our uniquely disgusting food!”

My sister nodded enthusiastically and stood up, saying, “I’ll go get you some french fries from McDonald’s!”

Keiichi stopped her. “No, don’t bother. I’ve got some Pringles, macadamia nut chocolate, and Pepsi in my bag. That’ll do for me.”

“That’s just like you to be eating that sort of thing, Keiichi,” said Sachie. “We always struggled with your eating problem ever since you were little. But I suppose that’s who you are.”

Everyone seemed strangely excited, babbling away and not making much sense. But I felt some kind of emotional harmony prevailing, and I went to get some beer from the refrigerator.

“Well then, everyone, how about some beer? There’s also mineral water and a Happy Future Foods drink for anyone who doesn’t want alcohol.”

“I’ll have a beer,” said Eiji.

“Mineral water for me,” my sister said.

“May I have some more barley tea?” said Sachie.

Everyone took what they wanted, and we raised our glasses high.

“Well then, kanpai! ”

“Here’s to everyone’s disgusting food!”

We were just getting into full swing when I heard the sound of a key in the lock. The living room door opened, and my husband poked his head in.

“I’m back . . . ah, so everyone’s still here, I see. I’m sorry for barging in like this.”

“Not at all,” Keiichi said, bowing his head. “Please excuse us for being here.”

My husband smiled and shook his hand, then sat down in the chair I’d been sitting in. I went to the refrigerator to get some of that blue drink he liked so much, and I heard him cry out, “Wow! What a magnificent spread you have here! Please do let me join you. This is the epitome of cross-cultural exchange!”

My sister came in and whispered in my ear, “What’s he going on about?”

“Beats me . . .”

As we puzzled over this unexpected development, we heard him speaking eloquently.

“You know, today I’ve been at a conference for exchanging business ideas. I was invited to join a seminar on food. It was amazing! Life-changing! Food is an excellent means for cultural exchange. The things you can learn from each meal! And not just nutrition. When you eat, you ingest culture, too. I realized that’s where the future of our alimentary lifestyle lies.”

I somehow got the idea where he was coming from and whispered to my sister, “That seminar really got to him, huh? He’s so gullible.”

My husband had always aspired to a higher living standard, so he was easily taken in by study groups and seminars that used it as a lure. He was especially susceptible to expensive things, so I was sure he must have paid a high fee for the seminar.

“Look, there are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year,” he went on in a rapturous tone, “and at three meals a day that makes a total of one thousand and ninety-five meals. Every single one of them is an opportunity, you know. You keep learning about different cultures through those meals, and that’s the key to being successful

in life. People who always eat the same food are constantly missing out on the opportunity to learn, you see.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Sachie, who looked completely lost.

Ignoring her, my husband picked up a small plate off the table.

“Wow, this looks so delicious! The whole table is glowing! What sort of bread is this?”

Kumi jumped up and ran over to him. “Oh! That’s from the magical city of Dundilas. It’s—”

“Oh, you made it, Kumi? It’s wonderful. May I have a piece?”

“Um, well, sure . . . but I don’t know if you’ll like it . . .”

“Eating things you don’t like—that’s what enriches our existence, Kumi,” he said, and winked at her.

Kumi smiled wanly and sat down. Since my husband had taken the chair I’d been sitting in, I perched on the stool in the kitchen. I felt kind of scared to go back to the table.

“This is something I’ve never seen before too. Looks tasty!” he said, putting a small caterpillar on the bread from the magical city of Dundilas. He added some Happy Future Foods freeze-dried vegetables and picked up Keiichi’s Pepsi.

“Look at this! A perfect fusion of cultures! The number of cultures I can learn about in this one meal!”

And with that, he folded the piece of bread in two and bit into the unholy mix.

“Urg . . .” Sachie held her handkerchief to her mouth.

In my husband’s mouth, the magical city of Dundilas bread and the caterpillar and a Happy Future Food product and the Pepsi all blended together. Nausea rose up in me, and I had to look away.

Everyone had gone pale and was staring at my husband. He carried on chewing, oblivious to the consternation around him. His cheerful voice rang out, “Mmm, this is sooo good!” The sound of him chomping in the silence of the room grated on my eardrums. “What a magnificent spread! Absolutely delicious!”

We were transfixed by the monstrous sight of my husband eating.