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Yakitori

January 25, 2009

I was on my holiday back to New Zealand. Me and my dad stayed up later, hanging around the weird tabe-hodai. I asked him why this was my first dream about visiting home and a lot of people I knew (like Bryony) dream about going home all of the time. “I guess you don’t belong here anymore,” he said, “the only reason you are tonight is because you’ve been trying to get cheap flights. You’ve been thinking about it.” He wanted to meet Laura but she was flying in the next day.
A whole lot of Samoans were crowding around the tabe-hodai table and wouldn’t let us eat anything. There was only 3 plates on tables that stretched to the horizon. It was only yakitori anyway.
Dad and I walked off to watch the bedtime band. They were playing under giant duvets. There were blankets for the audience to sit on, but nobody else was watching. They were the ‘youth band’. We sat on the metal bleachers. I sat down on the front row and Dad sat up the back. When I stood up the whole thing collapsed and it sent him flying. He landed on his back. I felt awful because he has a bad back anyway.
Mum came in told me that I owed her money for my trip. I told her that I couldn’t afford it; all I had was yen. She kept hounding me angrily, so eventually I had a temper tantrum, throwing my money everywhere and going off to the corner to cry and whine.
Michael and Levi wouldn’t go to bed until I went to bed. I said I was going but instead stayed up looking at toothpastefordinner.com (which was actually a farming website). They stood like statues by the door. Mum yelled at me again so I poured coffee on the computer.

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