Victor Jr. and I will start our drive to take our equipment to Nashville this week for taping next week of the Shot Gun Red Variety Show.
(The rest of the gang will fly out.)
We also have a great gig up in Chico (Private) that will include the trapeze.
Now...here is what passes as a Ghost story 100 years ago in Japan.
Oitoke Pond
A long time ago, near a little village in Japan, there was a very large pond that was said to be abundant with fish. So the nearby villagers would often go there to fish. The strange thing was that nobody would fish there during the day. Only at night would fishermen go and happily fish away until their creels were full. Occasionally, after pulling up their creel, packing-up their gear and were just about to leave some fishermen would hear “Oitoke, Oitoke” which in Japanese means “drop it drop it” in a very commanding voice. The voice sounded like it came right out of the depths of the pond. Hearing this, the fishermen would drop everything and run away. Before long this was happening all the time so fishermen stopped coming and the pond became known as Oitoke Pond. Even today people rarely venture to go fishing there, night or day.
Now, on the edge of this village there lived a man named Sanzaemon. He was a man of boundless courage and nothing easily scared him. “Why is everyone so afraid a voice? A voice can’t do anything to you!” he would exclaim. “I will go and no matter how many times a voice says to drop it I will surely return with my fish.” He announced one day.
That evening he set out for Oitoke Pond; after all it’s more fun to fish at a haunted pond at night, isn’t it?
He fished frantically trying to catch as many fish as he could as the night grew darker. Once full he pulled up his creel and packed up his gear. Just then he heard the voice. “Oitoke, Oitoke”, it said.
He grinned ever so slightly and looked around the pond. He couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. But the voice was ominous; he could only guess that it compared to what a voice from hell might sound like. “Just like the rumors said”, he mumbled to himself.
“Who should I drop it for?” Sanzaemon called out in response to the commands to drop it. There was no response so he gripped his gear and the creel a little tighter and he began to walk away.
As he walked on he heard the clapping of geta (Japanese wooden clogs) approaching him from behind. He turned and looked to see a beautiful young lady. Coming to his side she smiled beautifully and asked, “Can I buy those fish from you?”
“Are you crazy!?” Sanzaemon snapped. “These fish are gifts.”
“Please don’t say that. Let me buy them.” She pleaded.
But Sanzaemon couldn’t be persuaded. “No! Just stop it! They aren’t for sale”, he bellowed at her.
She continued to beg bowing lower each time until finally Sanzaemon barked at her again and turned to walk off.
At that very moment, before his eyes, the young woman’s face transformed into that of an awful she-devil (Onibaba) and she asked, “Even though I asked you kindly you won’t drop them?” perhaps hoping to scare him.
“That’s right. And who should I drop them for?”, the un-fazed Sanzaemon asked her without turning back to look at her again. He then walked home, briskly.
Once in his house he breathed a sigh of relief, for he was more scared than he let on. He told his landlady, “Today I met a dreadfully frightening woman. I was scared but I brought the fish back. Just like I said I would.”
He told her the whole story, including the beautiful girl and her transformation into an onibaba.
Turning away from him his landlady asked, “This girl, what kind of face did you say she had?”
“It was exactly like an Onibaba’s face but being so dark I can’t exactly be sure. I tried to ignore her.”
Quickly turning to face him the landlady asked, “Is this what she looked like?” Her face had changed to look exactly like the Onibaba of earlier.
With a scream, “Aghhhhhhhhh!” , Sanzaemon passed out.
After coming to he realized he wasn't home at all but in a deserted mountain house somewhere in the forest near the pond. Of course his gear, the creel, and the fish were gone.
Or so the story goes.
-End.
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