The Gremlin’s Grampa

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Mr. Sessue Noguchi, owner and manager of the Little Tokyo restaurant, was disturbed by the unaccountable silence that had fallen over the corner table; it was occupied by his old friends and longtime customers Lieutenant Reardon of the San Francisco police, his lovely lady, Miss Jan Something-or-other, and their guest Sergeant Something-Dondero. From the vantage point the proprietor maintained next to the cash register — presided over by his eldest daughter — Mr. Noguchi wondered what difference of opinion made all three of his old friends refuse to even face one another, seemingly preferring to stare through the window at the fog curling eerily up from the bay to swirl about the bobbing lights on the crosstrees of boats swaying at cable length from Fisherman’s Wharf. It couldn’t be the food; Mr. Noguchi was certain of that. The tempura and the specialty of the house — Noguchiyaki — had been personally inspected by he, himself, before being permitted to be taken to the table by the waitress — his wife’s sister’s middle daughter — and besides, it had been thoroughly consumed. Quite obviously some disagreement over something undoubtedly minor...

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