hibachi

hibachi

>be a guy at a Hibachi restaurant.
>the new delicacy is live baby fluffies cooked on the grill right in front of you.
>you’re a trendy dick, so you’re always the first in line to try something new.
>your hibachi chef is chef yuri nagako
>his real name is chuck and he’s from omaha, but he doesn’t tell you that.
>chef nagako does a little show with some knives and oil dispensers. you applaud politely.
>he plucks a fluffy from a container. it’s small, only a few inches high.
>predictably, it cries for its mother.
>”mumma… mumma.. wan mumma! fwuffy scawed!”
>before it can shit on the hibachi, chef nagako squeezes it over a bucket next to him.
>his shoe shine bills must be astronomical.
>he pops a pepper into the fluffy’s butthole, then with two deft strokes of his knife he cuts off its legs.
>not very much blood - you’re surprised. the legs are thrown out.
>”eeeeeeeeee! mumma! mumma! wan mumma! weggies huuuuuuuuuuuuwt! poopie pwace huwt!”
>chef nagako makes a small slice along the fluffie’s back and peels away its fluff and top layer of skin.
>damn, this guy’s good.
>sprinkle some spices on it. the fluffy squeals from it stinging its raw flesh.
>”eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! huwtieeeeeeeeeeeees!”
>it probably would have shit itself sideways by now, were it not for the pepper in its ass.
>he then places the fluffy on the grill and squeezes some more cooking oil around it.
>the grill sizzles as the fluffy foal rolls around helplessly on the hot metal, its skin getting singed on every side.
>you take a picture with your brand new cameraphone. you’re fascinated.
>chef nagako flips the fluffy around with a couple of spatulas, making sure it gets evenly browned on all sides.
>add a little more spice.
>the fluffy moves its little stubs, trying desperately to crawl off the grill.
>not today, fluffy!
>chef nagako flips the fluffy onto its back. it’s now in shock from the hot grill cooking its skin.
>he makes a quick incision down the belly and quickly yanks out the intestines with a small pair of tongs
>fill the fluffy’s chest cavity with sauce, which is lit on fire.
>the fire cooks its remaining internal organs just enough to make them edible.
>chef nagako plops the fluffy onto your plate, garnish with a sprig of parsely and some vegetables.
>you dig in… sampling the tender, spiced flesh of the foal.
>delicious. it’s like tender rabbit meat but a bit heavier.
>use your chopsticks to pull out one of its lungs, then its liver.
>the fluffy, still barely conscious, watches you eating its internal organs.
>it tries to mouth something at you. it looks like “wan mumma”
>you jam a fork into its face. you don’t like your dinner watching you eat it.
>finish stripping off its flesh and eating its organs, dipping it into the spicy sauce.
>amazing. chef nagako is a master.
>”How you like fruffy pony?”
>”Excellent. How much is that, by the way?”
>”Fruffy pony fifteen dollah each.”
>”I’ll take two more.”