China Bows to Japan after Restaurateur Revolt


A perfectly preserved Mitsubishi A6M Zero aircraft flown near towering mountain peaks

The Orient – a place of dragons, samurai, small breasts, haiku and countless small, pointless disputed isles. Where colonial Europe once had the Caribbean, where Britain once had the Falklands, where Stephen Hawking once had the Milky Way – island territory battles between powers are no new thing.

The Sino-Japanese drama, perhaps the dullest piece of nationalist theatre to yet bore the world’s citizenry, came to an abrupt close today with revelation, invention and sudden, Wok-graced reaction. Japan’s Yumiyumi Ate, the great-grandson of Kikunae Ikeda, unmasked his ancestor as the inventor and synthesizer of monosodium glutamate, a flavour enhancer known in China as the ‘Crystal of Glorious Heaven’.

It had until today been assumed an invention of Mao’s, distilled from the leader’s excrement which reportedly carried an odour and texture similar to a modern rendition of chicken and cashew nut. Yet the truth still eluded the Chinese, obscured by mass-debunking across decades which robbed Mao of so many of his supposedly bigger inventions such as the pot noodle and poetry. Only after countless billions in profit for the food industry has MSG’s significance become clear.

Young Yumiyumi pre-recorded his revelations. As China stood shocked he was airborne, spraying suburbs of Beijing with a terrifying new invention. He sat squat and resolute in an antique Zero flown straight from the roof of a Yakuza-owned memorial museum in Yokohama. An explosion of samurai suits, barely-clothed cartoon characters, waxwork models of Emperors, reclusive pampered young adults, and octopus robots accompanied the escape which was later saluted by Prime Minister Shinzo Abe as ‘a thing of beautiful Japaneseness.’

Muchisodium Taytamate’s effect was soon known. 920 times the strength of its predecessor, the chemical on ingestion makes everything taste unimaginably vivid. The sour pisslike tongue-caress of government corruption and fear emanating from central Beijing was lapped up by the countless Chinese exposed to the fateful white mist. Restaurateurs, buoyed by visions of food that would render the addictive grip of cocaine comparable to that of a mere teary celebrity memoir, sprang to action as ringleaders.

By sunset Communism had collapsed as millions poured into government districts, demanding the secret of the new taste chemical. On failing to grant it, the entire hegemony of the Communist Party were ripped apart like culinary dogs. Latest developments indicate that China is poised for all-out capitulation to the Empire of Japan, but is presently holding out for rights to film a Battle Royale sequel that isn’t awful featuring Jackie Chan as the sociopath teacher.

Yumiyumi Ate landed in Tokyo earlier to crowds pulsing with nationalistic fervour. Declining to depart his plane until he could be allowed to make live, televised love to an inflatable avatar of his favourite anime character Naankingko, he emerged to the runway naked and triumphant. The act, forceful and degrading for all involved, was aired without apology. Ate was then formally crowned Grand Conqueror of China for his bloodless chemical warfare.

Mr. Ate’s spoken wish to the newly-resurrected Imperial Command was: “Destroy every one of those boring disputed islands! Kamikaze them to fuck my fellow warriors!”

“We unwittingly humbled the people’s struggle by switching focus from Taiwan to territories a millionth of its size.” said Chinese oligarch-in-exile Wi Bi Foked. “Yet if we shrank down, how much more so did Japan in the lab? A single super-synthesized molecule was my nation’s downfall. The phrase ‘size matters’ holds only bitter irony for us today.”