A month in captivity

I have a little monkey named Jack, that I like to hold and play with. One of the Japanese sisters, that I want to take me home with them, gave it to That Woman Who is Not My Mommy. It's tiny, and supposed to be a Joon Bear, but it is very ugly and has no ears, so it is a monkey.

Yesterday she just had chicken soup with noodles and some tea, but I had chicken with gravy and steak for dinner, fresh tomato slices and butterscotch pudding. She may not take me to the opening of Cafe-B, which I would have gone to, in a lovely outfit, were I with a real Japanese Okasan like my brothers, but at least she makes sure I am well-fed. She says when she gets well she will make steamed pumpkin yams; she says she thinks I might be fond of them for some reason. I think she needs to see a psychiatrist.

She is making information sheets for the Ohana meeting tomorrow - it is a month of my miserable captivity all ready, and no Daddy to save me and take me back to Asia! All he ever talks about is Asia, not her backward part of the world. She points out the message from BOF saying that the rest of the world is important and that they won't just say Asia any more, they'll say the world. I point out that if her rest of the world was so important, he'd mention it, look at Cafe-B for example. Asia. Only.

You don't count. I tell her. He never even thinks of you outside Asia.
Not true, she says. Look at IMX America.
That's IMX, not Daddy, I say.
She kisses me on the head with her flu germs and we agree to disagree.