Image by moriza via Flickr
Oh, goddess of food,
Deliver me from chicken
Unless stuffed with cheese.
A haiku for this week's goddess: Uke-Mochi, the Japanese goddess of food. If she can't help us, we're doomed.
Here's the story: One day the storm god Susano-Wo drops by Uke-Mochi's house totally uninvited. He's all, "Hey, Uke-Mochi, What's for dinner."
Yeah. Right. Total doofus. But what's she going to do? Kick him out? She's the goddess of food. This is her immortal life. The problem is, she's got nothing in her house. She's hasn't been to the market in days. Her refrigerator has soy sauce and a half-eaten can of sardines. Still, she's a goddess, so she can improvise. She says, "Uhhhh...leftovers." Then she pulls porridge from her nose, California rolls from her mouth, and rice from her ass.
Unfortunately, in addition to being a freeloading doofus, Susano-Wo was also one of those guys who always checks the labels to see where his food is from. He was totally disgusted, despite the fact that everything he was served was locally grown, so he killed her.
The dead Uke-Mochi, however, was all "Thanks a lot bozo. Eat this." Her whole body transformed into a feast for the people of Japan. Rice grew out of her eyes, millet from her ears, red beans from her nose, soy beans from her butt, and wheat from her genitals. Her death allowed the Japanese to thrive, although dining with such an unworthy companion was definitely no picnic for her.
Channel this goddess: When your unworthy dining companions complain -- again -- about your cooking. This is one time you can really mean it when you tell them to stick it up their asses. You can also channel Uke-Mochi when unexpected guests drop by, although might I recommend take out? It's just much easier.
Allison: This one is for you, Haiku and all.
Need a goddess: That's why I'm here. Tell me your need and I'll see what I can find.