The Old Men of Omi

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They staggered from the neighbor’s farm followed by laughter and shouts: “Watch out or the kappa will jump out of a paddy and snatch ya.”

The two old men, white-haired and white-bearded, were drunk out of their skulls and hooted with laughter.

Juro raised a jug toward the moon. “Bring on yer kappa! We’ll fight’em.”

His friend Wakiya snorted. “Me, I’d rather have a woman than a kappa. I’d even take a fox.”

They bumped into each other, laughing and holding each other up.

“Yer drunk!” Wakiya said. “Gimme the wine. Yer gonna drop it.”

“Never! Come to poppa.” Juro kissed the jug. “Better’n a child any day. Children are a pain.”

Wakya burped. “That bitch my son married. She’s waiting at home with a broom to beat me. Gimme that jug.”

Juro passed the jug over and stood swaying as his friend raised it and drank, spilling wine all over himself. “Pah,” he spat. “Yer kid peed all over me.” He threw the jug back and giggled.

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