Several decades ago now, an anonymous user of the Japanese messageboard 2channel made a post about visiting his local Yoshinoya (a Japanese chain restaurant). This post had such an exquisite blend of sincere emotion and aching banality that it has captured the imaginations of all who read it ever since.
A running joke is to make edits swapping out words for one another, or more generally playing around with the prose. Though more accurate translations do exist, traditionally the basis for edits is the one marked "The Classic" below. The versions following are my own edits.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 yen off" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Yoshinoya just because it's 150 yen off, fool.
It's only 150 yen, 1-5-0 YEN for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you 150 yen if you get out of those seats.
Yosinoya should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what's great about this place.
Women and children should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bastard beside me goes "extra-large, with extra sauce."
Who in the world orders extra sauce nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "do you REALLY want to eat it with extra sauce?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra sauce"?
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, extra green onion.
That's right, extra green onion. This is the vet's way of eating.
Extra green onion means more green onion than sauce. But on the other hand the price is a tad higher. This is the key.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
However, if you order this then there is danger that you'll be marked by the employees from next time on; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with today's special.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways there was only a few people there, and I had no problem finding a seat.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 yen off" written on it.
What a pleasant surprise, I thought.
I didn't come to Yoshinoya just because it's 150 yen off, but even so.
It's nice of the management to do these little things for the customers occasionally.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya, huh? How delightful!
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large." I happen to overhear.
I don't know these people, but I'd happily give them 150 yen if they needed change for the bus.
Yosinoya is a wonderful place.
That calm atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can strike up a conversation at any time,
the happy-go-lucky mentality, that's what's great about this place.
The women and children really add to the feel of the place, too.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the guy beside me goes "extra-large, with extra sauce."
Who in the world orders extra sauce nowadays?
I want to tell him, "y'know, actually, I've heard good things about the extra green onion."
I want to chat with him. I want to chat with him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't want to try ordering extra green onion instead?
Coming from a Yoshinoya regular such as myself, the latest trend among us regulars is this, extra green onion.
That's right, extra green onion. This is my favourite way of eating.
Extra green onion means more green onion than sauce. The employees are so nice they don't even charge extra for it.
And then, it's delicious. This is unbeatable.
And, if you order this then the employees will probably remember you from next time on; it's a nice feeling.
I'd recommend it to anyone.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should come visit some time.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways it was really quite a spiritual experience.
I pushed open the doors and the scent of beef broth wafted out in great misty coils.
The incessant chatter of diners merged into a low roar, like the sound of a waterfall in the distance.
Papier-mâché families of four waltzed across the floor in front of me, identical grinning masks on each of their faces.
Repressing a shudder, I pushed through the crowds of shifting flesh to the counter.
A chorus of angels descended from among the 150 yen off banners hanging from the ceiling.
In an undulating aria a glowing, maternal voice told me it's okay to want extra sauce.
I would not be deceived, however. "Extra-large, with extra green onion" I intoned confidently, with a voice like thunder.
Double-edged swords fanned out from behind the woman at the counter like a peacock tail.
I patiently waited for my bowl, then took a seat at one side of a U-shaped table.
The men on the other side were holding daggers, but I knew they could never dare stab a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself.
With a jolt of vertigo, I looked down into my bottomless extra-large bowl.
The bubbles of grease floating on the surface spiralled round and round, faster and faster, as I plunged deeper into the maelstrom.
Machine elves danced on rafts of beef, dodging the countless bits of green onion zipping to and fro.
Streams of \100 and \50 coins floated inwards like confetti.
I knew somewhere deep within the fractal vortex was the spirit of Yoshinoya.
From her, I could learn the secret, the key: the perfect Yoshinoya dish.
I had to know.
I wouldn't even mind if the price was a tad higher, or if I were marked by the employees from next time on.
I would learn the secret, even if I had to interrogate her for over an hour.
At the vital moment, however, some idiot next to me said "Alright, daddy's gonna order the extra-large."
My concentration wavered. The moment was lost.
I wasn't even angry. I just got up and left.
A single glance back at the steam still rising from my untouched bowl, then I was gone.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should really just stay away from LSD if you know what's good for you.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went back to Yoshinoya a while ago; you remember, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways it was eerily empty. Not a single person there.
I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "150 yen off" written on it.
Really? Even a discount like that isn't pulling the idiots in?
I guess it is only 150 yen. That doesn't bring in the families of 4 like it used to.
Yosinoya should be a bloody place.
That tense atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can start a fight at any time,
the stab-or-be-stabbed mentality, that's what this place means to me.
I should be begging the women and children to screw off and stay home.
I imagine some ugly bastard beside me ordering "extra-large, with extra sauce."
The hot flush of indignation warms me, for a moment.
Then, a woman appears behind the counter at last.
Her uniform looks too big on her. She can't be more than a teenager.
An abyss yawns open just above my diaphragm, as I realise it's been two decades since I made that now infamous post on 2ch.
Was she even born yet at the time?
Does she know what a Yoshinoya veteran is? Has she ever heard the words "extra-large with extra green onion"?
While I wasn't looking, these ideas have been wiped away like spilt sauce off a U-shaped table.
I was so worried about being remembered by the employees, I never thought I might end up forgotten like this.
A deep sigh leaves my body like a late autumn breeze.
"I guess I'll just have today's special," I say.
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. I know what I'm about to say sounds crazy, but just hear me out, okay?
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways it was eerily quiet. Not even any staff behind the counter.
The lights were on and the doors were open, but there was no one there.
They didn't even have the usual discount promotion banner hanging from the ceiling.
Anyways, I was about to leave, when I noticed an unmarked door slightly ajar towards the back of the room.
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, I have to admit, I was a bit curious what went on back there, so I took a few cautious steps inside.
Oh, the stupidity. I was such an idiot.
I'd give anything to have just gotten out of there when I had the chance.
The bare concrete corridor stretched out ahead of me, perhaps a little further than it should have given the dimensions of the building.
"Hello? Anyone there?" I called out. God, I can't bear to remember it.
There was no response but the buzz of the fluorescent strip lighting overhead.
As I approached the corner at the end of the corridor, my chest suddenly went tight. I hadn't even noticed I was holding my breath.
I turned the corner and what confronted me was this, a locked door.
That's right, a locked door. I was almost relieved when the handle wouldn't budge.
There was a faint savoury smell, with just a hint of something sickly-sweet underneath, like rotting fruit.
I thought it was coming from behind the door until I heard the low, droning creak from immediately behind me.
Perhaps she had once been an employee. Perhaps not.
She was roughly humanoid, and wearing the Yoshinoya uniform, but the rest of her was all wrong.
Her hands looked like bundles of twigs with skin stretched over them. Her joints articulated the wrong way.
And her face... the whole jaw was just gone, and there was some sort of origami floret of raw meat in its place.
Her eyes... I don't want to think about it.
What in the world are you, you freak?
I wanted to run. I wanted to run and scream and cry for at least an hour.
The door behind me wouldn't open, of course, and she was between me and the exit.
She laughed, or gurgled in an amused sounding way at least.
Is this REALLY something to laugh about?
Are you sure you aren't just trying to scare me?
Anyways, what happened next, I don't really know how to talk about.
All I have is a torrential kaleidoscope of raw sensation and experience.
My face pressed against the griddle. The smell of burnt flesh and the hiss and pop of my own bubbling fat.
Every bubble of grease burning the inside of my lungs as I drown in beef broth.
My own body, heaped in green onion, cut apart and masticated and swallowed and digested by some family of 4, all out for some Yoshinoya. How fucking mad.
It makes no sense, and I can't make it make sense to you because I can't even make it make sense to myself.
Somehow, I stumbled out, alive and unhurt. It felt like a lifetime had passed but my watch said it was less than an hour.
Yoshinoya is a bloody place, in ways I don't even have the vocabulary to describe.
I can't recommend it to anyone.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stay the hell away from that place. I'm serious.
(Written in response to news that Yoshinoya is expanding into the ostrich business)
Anyways, >>1, please listen to me. That it's really related to this thread.
I went to Yoshinoya a while ago; you know, Yoshinoya?
Well anyways there was an insane number of people there, and I couldn't get in.
Then, I looked at the banner hanging from the ceiling, and it had "Now serving ostrich meat!" written on it.
Oh, the stupidity. Those idiots.
You, don't come to Yoshinoya for ostrich, fool.
It's a gyūdon chain. Gyūdon as in beef bowl, for crying out loud.
There're even entire families here. Family of 4, all out for a taste of exotic poultry, huh? How fucking nice.
"Alright, daddy's gonna order the ostrich bowl." God I can't bear to watch.
You people, I'll give you a ticket to the zoo if you get out of those seats.
Yoshinoya should be a traditional place.
That timeless atmosphere, where two guys on opposite sides of the U-shaped table can eat the same gyūdon they would've had a hundred years ago,
the down-to-earth Japanese mentality, that's what's great about this place.
People just seeking novelty should screw off and stay home.
Anyways, I was about to start eating, and then the bitch beside me goes "I want the ostrich cosmetics."
Who in the world wants ostrich cosmetics, you moron?
I want to ask her, "do you REALLY want to rub reconstituted ostrich lard on your face?"
I want to interrogate her. I want to interrogate her for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "ostrich cosmetics"?
Coming from a Yoshinoya veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this, gyūdon facemasks.
That's right, gyūdon facemasks. This is the vet's method of skincare.
Gyūdon facemasks means potentially getting green onion in your eyes. But on the other hand the beef fat does wonders for your pores. This is the key.
And then, it's completely rejuvenating. You'll look ten years younger.
However, if you do this in the restaurant then there's a danger that everyone will just think you're an extremely messy eater; it's a double-edged sword.
I can't recommend it to amateurs.
What this all really means, though, is that you, >>1, should just stick with generic store brand moisturiser.