Weeaboo Horror Stories

KFC Hetaboo Horror

In reference to a 1953 Science-Fiction film, It came from Outer Space. Glowing a multitude of shades of obnoxious neon, poorly sewn cosplay pieces to make me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon and enough poorly-constructed Japanese to fall from their mouths like rubbish from a dustbin lorry, it was my first time being attacked by a Weeaboo high on recreational drugs (assumptions, people) and Rainbow Dust.

My parents decided to take me to KFC after food shopping because my Mum was too lazy to cook that night. We had just turned off the roundabout and we were followed in my three people carriers. We parked up and I got out first, my nose tucked into my new copy of Lord of the Flies. Loud Vocaloid music came from  the cars which followed us in and a few squeals of 'Kaito-Kun!' as some dude I'd never heard of started singing. I stood and watched as at least ten people got out each car and began dancing and singing in Japanese (by Japanese, I mean an entirely destroyed newly revised alien language because they couldn't say anthing right). Eight of them wore Naruto costumes with terrible wigs that reminded me of road kill and the driver  wore the most disgusting yellow dress that reminded me off my Nan's failed Meringue experiment when I was nine. My Dad started taking the piss and I laughed as five Hetaboo cosplayers began chanting "Doitsu.". They were wearing enough polyester that any source of heat could set them up in flames.

I always get a table near the window whilst my parents order the food so we have somewhere to sit. I could hear them squealing like pigs about "America-Chan" and that "He is soo Kawaii!". I'm a five foot nine Jolly Green Giant, broad as a ox and I'm slightly fat on the stomach although I'm always active. I had a Captain America t-shirt on and my mind had horror comics and Def Leppard on the agenda, not Weeaboo's. I was too busy reading til some Weeaboo decided to breathe into my face and squeal (they were incapable of human speech but were able to mimic some human language like a parrot) "Are you America-Chan?"

You got me! I'm actually American, blonde and male. I've been wearing a wig and grown breasts like some insane morph woman who's able to change nationalities and genders. I like how she assumed I knew what Hetalia was! "Oh course I am!" I replied sarcastically. I returned to my reading but she pulled the book away and I could see the full extent of her god-awful appearance. She looked as if a tramp and Ke$ha had a lovechild. Enough grease in her hair I could fry chips in it, terrible pus spots that I feared some creature would emerge from them like chest-bursters from Alien VS. Predator, crooked teeth like a piano thrown from a electricity pylon and an poorly fitting Hetalia t-shirt.

"Are you America's girlfriend?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "We are married and we live in the White House. Grow up, woman."

"You are! You're like fem! England!"

She ran away to her Weeaboo friends and started giggling. I carried on in my own sweet way until four of them approached me and started whispering about their sadistic, perverted headcannons about me and a fictional character. It was the most confusing, embarrassing experience of my life and I almost threw-up on my shoes.

I sat in my chair and did this for ten minutes until my parents came with our food and told them to "get on their bike" and leave me alone. They followed me into the bathroom and it wasn't for my mother, I probably wouldn't be alive.