Black paint brush of tragic angst

My oldest brother was a sumo wrestler and my younger one was a famous nunchuks maker. I specialised in 12th century Sokoharo calligraphy. While my brothers were training and fighting...I was practising my paint strokes and learning Russian and German as I adored their alphabets and brush strokes. Father had little respect for me...while my mother...chose me as her favourite. God what an insufferable bitch that tiresome woman was. She'd never leave me the fuck alone...always here son...I made you some date filled sweet cakes or here are a couple hundred yen so you can buy a nice calligraphy brush. Zheesh...could she be more up in my fucking face all the time...never giving me the space my genius needed to flourish? One day...after buying some luxury calligraphy equipment and filling my tummy with mom's confections...I started on a new commissioned work. Only people on the tiny island of Sokoharo gave a flying fuck about my masterful writing style as they were the only Japs who recognised atortured spirit and lust for emptiness and doom. 
Just as I was finishing the final touch of my master-work...Yoshi...my sumo wrestling brother stampeded across the room and crashed into me knocking everything off the table with ink, paper and all. As I landed on my ink rock I cracked open my head and blood splattered everywhere...but not on my precious art. I jumped on top of it protecting it with my heart and soul. My nunchuks making brother burst into the room and in 5 seconds brought down his weapon in a rage that broke everything I owned and in the process tore up my precious art work. He also fractured my left hand which was my painting hand. 
As I sat on the ground...supporting the broken bones in my hand...suffering in agonising pain...my brothers laughed at me. 
"You're going to cry little artsy farsty bitch"? said one.
"Lets see those pussy tears" said the other. They laughed for a couple minutes until I started crying. 
My father walked in and pointed his finger at me. "Why have you destroyed everything."
"It was them...not me".
"You are low and pathetic. Take responsibility for your errors". I couldn't hold back my dark agonising tears and let them out in an embarrassing flood. My father roared at me "You will work on the neighbours farm every day until you pay for everything you broke. And stop weeping...you shame our family". 
When father left my brothers started laughing again and the sumo wrestler kicked me in the balls on his way out. 
"Come on...lets go get some Chinese strange. I heard those sluts from the rape of Nanjing couldn't get enough of our holy Japanese sausage and have been smuggled into Tokyo so we can satisfy their cum targets."
"Both targets"? my brother asked. "Nice. You can aim your offload at her chink hole and I will aim mine right in her eyes"
"Sweet bro...lets synchronise it so we shower her with our Samurai foam at the same time"
"That will be killer bro". My other brother kicked me in the nuts so hard I passed out. My mother came and wiped the blood off my head and brought me a glass of opium laced rice-wine for the pain. She always knew just when to smother me and not just couldn't leave me the fuck alone. I downed the opium rice wine and asked for more. She knew that in war time opium was scarce but said she'd scour the whole city to find some. Ugh. She never cared for me. Groan.
I lost a thousand yen commission as well as all my clients because I did not deliver my work and I could no longer paint. I didn't have the money to buy any good supplies but my mother would scrape up some ration points to get rice paper and cheap ink. Totally useless women, honestly, what could I do with such useless supplies? I got petty change by writing people's names on rice paper near the Buddhist temple...until the monks and nuns told me to fuck off. I made sure the Americans set that temple on fire with all the nuns and monks inside 3 years later and also had the Island of Sokoharo invaded and destroyed by American soldiers for the way they turned their backs on me after my brothers destroyed my life.
My brothers became fighter pilots while I was deemed unfit for duty. Having two destroyed testicles made you ineligible. Part of being a good Japanese soldier was killing every man, putting the children to work and ravaging the women brutally and artfully. My brothers were sent to the Philippines just in time for the rape of Manilla. My brother destroyed so many vaginas in one weekend he became a cult hero as well as the father to 50 bastard children. My father, while proud of his two eldest sons would not walk around the neighbourhood over the humiliation of having an invalid offspring who could not fight for the glorious Empire of the rising sun nor spread our holy seed around Asia.
I secured work as a translator and was posted to Moscow. My father never came to the airport to see me off because he wished I was never born. My mother came...because her life would be nothing without me. She gave me a months supply of my favourite cakes and then the last of the family savings so that I could start a new life somewhere else. She knew Japan was doomed. Ugh. Even at the very end she smothered me to death. She even kissed me in front of the other men and then got down on her knees bowing towards me whining and crying like a hysterical maniac. God. Could my family be any more embarrassing?
Moscow was great. The city was freezing which meant my balls were pure ice which soothed the excruciating pain I felt every day after years of my brothers punching them. Russians were pure comic gold. As it was under siege by the Nazis with food shortages people would bash each other's brains in fighting over a loaf of bread. Fools. Serves them right for taking the Nazi's at their word. We had baby dolphin meat and live supper monkeys airlifted to the embassy every week as [the idea of eating caviar turned our stomach. Fish eggs? What are we cavemen? From time to time I would throw my left overs at starving orphans so I could watch them live one extra day of their numbered pathetic soviet existence.
One month later I was in Washington DC with the bread eaters, so white they looked like giant walking pillows only really fat and greasy. My mother using her natural cunning Japanese powers of espionage tracked me down and sent me a telegram every week. Groan. Even from across the ocean she found a way to suffocate me with her love. She kept me up to date about my brothers who sadly weren't shot down yet and about my father who had been eaten to death by a pack of hungry squirrels in Toyko's Aokigahara park. It was the first time I had smiled in months. My mother finished off the letter telling me she missed me dearly. Gawd, Japanese mothers aren't supposed to express their love with words...they do it by showing their children unworthiness and shame. Bah.
America was boring. Their food tasted like cigarette ash, their music was primitive and they treated woman as though they were men's equals. Gross. Even worse...they spent all day watching TV instead of staring into space feeling inadequacy and false humility. They had so much to learn.
One day I was delighted to find that Japan had bombed pearl harbour. I didn't think my chance to betray my country would come so soon. The American government couldn't believe their luck that I was Japanese, spoke English and was knowledgeable about Japans nuclear program. I wrote my mother a week earlier and asked her to sleep with the head of the Japanese WMD program in Tokyo. She did so and send me a letter telling me the Japanese were getting nowhere with the a-bomb but they did solve the remote detonation problem. What a pathetic country of primitives and gawd my mother was such a useless slut.
I told the Americans what I knew and I promised them more. I had the stupid asshole generals wrapped around my finger. My mother wrote to me and said both my brothers were hospitalised. Such beautiful news. She spent her days travelling between home and the army hospitals in Hiroshima and Nagasaki to comfort my brothers, the pair of fuck-ups they were. Not since my father's squirrel death incident did I feel so happy knowing they were in dirty hospitals without clean surgical instruments and no pain killers. It was such a yummy feeling in my tummy knowing this.
My mother had no food and told me with great shame that she sold my calligraphy paintings for a lot of money as I had become famous as a traitorous defector. People paid good money to buy my works and burn them in the middle of the street in front of screaming crowds. The fools. In only days they would be gun fodder, kamikaze pilots and radiation filled meat sacks. I told my mom she better send me a cut of the money and be more responsible managing her house budget.
American soldiers and generals had enormous pussies and were hesitant to drop the bomb. They preferred a small island or army base worried that bombing a large city would lead to the killing of "innocent Japanese". I made them realise that there was no such thing as innocent Japanese and that given the chance...even a twelve year old Japanese boy would stab an American in the face and defile every orifice in their corpse. Ugh
By the most beautiful of luck they bombed Nagasaki. I spent the whole night in bed jerking off imagining my brothers face melting off it's skull while my mother cried. I paid a minute of silence for the memory of 80,000 Japanese assholes who were sacrificed to make the world a better place. I had a taste for sweet revenge and I wanted more.
My mother went to Nagasaki to get my brothers remains (or just grab some ash floating in the error and put it in a bottle and call it her son's). She told me shed spend the next month with my other brother in Hiroshima as his pancreas was inflamed for the numerous diseases he caught from Filipino girl-whores.
The American generals seemed sick to their stomachs after the last bomb as images of burn victims and an incinerated city were published in their newspapers. It was misplaced sympathy. I would never be happy until Hiroshima went down too. I got all the generals drunk that night and made them think bombing Hiroshima was not just a hilarious thing to do...but also the proportionate response to Perl Harbour. Americans are so fucking gullible a plane was on its way the next day. Sigh.
Sometimes I miss my mom's little cakes. The least she could have done was send me a large box before she was blasted by chain reacting plutonium. But then that's what she always was...a great disappointment.
I enjoyed the euphoria of the second bomb a little longer but afterwards I was depressed and drank bleach. Unfortunately I survived and was stuck here on Earth living in America unable to eat solid food or monkey brains again. Bah. At least the yanks gave me a life long pension for my services of military advice. Stupid assholes.
Several of my brothers' bastard children somehow found out my address and wrote to me from the dirty and poor country of Philippines asking their uncle for money and visas to America. I sent them a sack of rice and told them I'd done my part. I was hoping they'd get the hint and fuck off but they wouldn't leave me alone (still won't). Even in death my brothers have managed to make my life miserable. Two of his children are now living in my apartment in frosty cold Alaska. I moved there because the chilly air keeps my busted testicles numb and in not so terrible pain. No matter how much I threaten to stab my niece and nephew in the face they won't go away. They always make a mess everywhere and destroy my calligraphy works. I threaten to microwave their pet dogs if they don't quiet down but instead they jump up on my lap crushing my balls. They adore me so much they make macaroni pictures of me at school and one of them wrote a story about how I saved the world from rice eating Japanese scum. At least there's one boy on Earth who makes sense. Maybe there is hope. I look at him fondly until he tells me "I love you uncle". It takes all my strength not to feed him to the fresh water sharks. I sometimes feel part of myself was destroyed with those atom bombs...but then I laugh remembering the two gorgeous mushroom clouds that showed me the only Earthly beauty I had ever seen. Sigh. Bah.
Category:Japanese culture