Salmonella men on Planet Porno: stories - By Yasutaka Tsutsui Page 0,28
more, I’ll be under the table. And then I won’t be able to continue my journey. Could I possibly have a glass of water?” I asked.
The red-faced man looked around him. “Oy! The guest would like a cold drink!”
“I’ll get it!”
Luna, who happened to be nearby, hopped down onto the earthen floor, stepped over the cable-car rails and crossed to the kitchen area. There, she opened a huge refrigerator and took out a bottle of Coca-Cola, which she brought over to me.
“Will you leave this village when you get married?” I asked her after taking a swig.
Luna looked at me blankly, with no sign of embarrassment. “Why, yes. Most of the women here marry men from Boar’s Wood or Deer’s Wood. Sometimes the husbands come to live here, and sometimes people from Bear’s Wood even marry each other.”
Someone called her, so she left me and started serving liquor again. The other women were all dressed in rustic garments. Only Luna was wearing jeans and a sweater.
As the night wore on, the women found themselves with less to do, and started taking turns snoozing with the children in the corner. Two young girls slept with their feet facing me. Each time they turned in their sleep, I was presented with the sight of their milky white thighs. I hardly knew where to look.
The men started clapping a beat.
“Come on, then! Who’s ready to sing?” called the Village Elder, beaming.
“Who’s ready to dance?” said the bearded man.
“All right then, I am!” The red-faced man got up and moved to the centre of the floor.
Everyone started laughing. He was obviously very popular.
The red-faced man glanced over at me. “Well, seeing that we have a guest, let us now sing the Song of Bear’s Wood!” he said loudly.
With that, the whole place erupted. Luna and the others knelt down on the wooden floor, clutched their trays to their stomachs and laughed aloud. This must be a funny song, I thought. I started clapping my hands in time with the others.
The red-faced man now started to dance a very curious sort of dance. As he did, he sang in a clear, penetrating voice:
Nanjoray Kumanocky!
Kanjoray Eenocky!
Nockay Nottaraka,
Hockay Hottaraka,
Tockay To-to-to-to-to!
The men and women were rolling across the floor with laughter. Even the girls and children sleeping in the corner had woken up.
The red-faced man returned to his seat amid tumultuous applause. Now everyone started clapping hands in time.
“Who’s next?”
“Let us have more!”
It seemed they would continue the Song of Bear’s Wood.
The bearded man moved to the centre of the room.
“Yea! It’s me now!”
That alone was enough to set off eddies of laughter.
The bearded man started to dance in a way that differed just slightly from the red-faced man’s effort. In a rich, deep voice he sang:
Nanjoray Kumanocky!
Kanjoray Eenocky!
Yockay Yottaraka,
Ockay Ottaraka,
Kockay Ko-ko-ko-ko-ko!
Well, this was so funny that even I was gripping my belly. The men, and even the women, were bent double with laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks. The children were upturned on the floor, feet shaking uncontrollably in the air. Not only was the song out of tune and utterly nonsensical, but the dance was so completely absurd as to be from another world. Whoever sang or danced it, guffaws of laughter would surely ensue.
With the opening “Nanjoray Kumanocky!,” the dancer would arch his upper body to the right, as if to depict a great mountain. Then, with “Kanjoray Eenocky!,” he would depict a mountain to the left. Then he would hop to the right and adopt a pose, then hop to the left and adopt the same pose in reverse. Finally, he would lift one leg, screw up his face, and hop along like a chicken.
“Who’s next? Who’s next?”
At last the laughter died down, and the clapping started again. They all seemed to be in some kind of frenzy. I began to feel carried along with it myself.
A lightly built, affable old man moved to the centre of the room. He resembled the Village Elder, though not such an imposing figure.
Everyone burst into laughter again. The women and children shrieked with merriment as they clapped to the rhythm. The old man must have been particularly popular with them. Baring his gnarled old arms and legs, he danced with great skill and sang in a husky voice:
Nanjoray Kumanocky!
Kanjoray Eenocky!
Sockay Sottaraka,
Mockay Mottaraka,
Dockay Do-do-do-do-do!
Some laughed so much they were gasping for breath, clutching their chests. Others were in convulsions, still others had collapsed on the floor. The din was so loud that the house seemed ready to burst.