Detective Leibish and Ms. Satomi

Detective Leibish and Ms. Satomi

In this world, flesh humans and anime humans alike live together in harmony, as much as can be expected. This story is about a Jewish detective and his anime business companion.

Rabbi Leibish Goldman observed the room again. Green walls. Wooden floor paneling. Nothing really stood out in the empty room, and no amount of dusting for prints would result in anything.

He thought about Miriam, his wife. She had spent the last two months in Italy without a word to him. Was she taken? Leibish had prayed she merely left him so she could live and be well, even if it was without him.

His kosher phone rang.

“Hello? Leibie?” It sounded like his wife. She even used the pet name she called him. “I’m in Italy still. The airport line is miles long! Oy, what I wouldn’t do for a knish!”

This was bad. If she was craving a knish, she must really be desperate for Jewish cooking. Miriam hated knishes.

He heard some snorting on the other line.

“Ah ha ha! You thought it was your missing wife, but it was me, Satomi!”

A tall, slim redhead with large anime eyes and two dimensions strolled into the room. Leibish tried to look at her as little as possible most of the time, partly because of religious reasons, but now it was out of anger.

“Not funny,” he whispered. “She could be dead, chas v’shalom.”

“Chas v’chalilah!” She had picked up most of his lingo years ago, when they had formed this detective agency. “She should live and be well!” Satomi dropped the dialect. “Did you find anything?”

“The only thing in this room is a vase, and it’s empty. I think maybe the floorboards might hide something, but we don’t have enough evidence to rip them up.”

“Oh, DARN!” Satomi stomped her heel into the floor. It created a small hole, as big as an eye. “Quick, flashlight!”

After a few minutes of peering, she found them. “BONES!”


“And a skull, nu, shut up!”

After calling the police, the floorboards were torn open and the cute anime rodent who owned the house was put under arrest.

“We got lucky that time,” Ms. Satomi moaned.

“No, it was the work of the Aibishter,” Rabbi Goldman said, looking skyward.

“Yeah,” scoffed the anime businesswoman, “your God and my Gucci shoes! Those cost seven hundred dollars!”

Leibish gaped. “Is that what you’re always buying from the salary I pay you?”

“I need shoes or my feet hurt!”

“They would hurt much less without those heels,” he muttered.



Two days later, Ms. Satomi walked in with new flats.

“Not because of anything you said,” she grumbled. “My podiatrist got on my case.”

He knew she was lying. Anime people may sneeze when you talk about them or grow large bumps after being hit with a hammer, but they never need to see the doctor.

“I believe you.”

“Of course! It’s the truth!”

A knock came from the door. A muscular European anime man waltzed in holding a snood. It looked an awful lot like the one Miriam wore.

“Please to be helping. I come from Italy. My girlfriend, she, how you say, kidnapped. I remember her talking about a detective husband she marry before becoming secoo– secular. I know her as Mary.”

“Do I know her as anyone?” asked the Rabbi, hoping for the Messiah to show up and ask him to look into the camera, because it’s a prank!

“Miriam Goldman, she say she was. They send this rag she used to wear before secoo– secular.”

“She’s with you? And she’s off the derech?” He cried into his palms.

“Better sit shiva,” mumbled Satomi. “Let me talk to him, boss. Anime knows no boundaries.”

She glowered at the anime man. “Why should we help you? You stole his wife!”

The man began to cry as well. “But I love her!”

“Get lost, creep!”

Leibish put up a hand. “No, Satomi.” He turned to the anime man. “I’ll do it.”

A day later, they were in Italy, taking in as many sights as they could before they had to work. Leibish inspected the snood. “Why is there a hole in it?”

“Oh,” said the anime man, Julio. “That’s from when I punctured the envelope with a letter opener.”

“Envelope!” said the Rabbi.

“Here it is,” said Julio.

“Look Leibish, it has an address on it and everything!” exclaimed Ms. Satomi. “They wanted us to find her!”

In front of the building the letter was addressed from, Leibish began to pray while Satomi pulled off one of her heels (“I’m on vacation!” she groused). Julio decided to wait outside.

They opened the door, ran inside, and rushed to the third floor. Room 312. “We should knock, maybe they’ll let us in?” not-quite-asked Leibish.

“I have a better idea,” Satomi replied, and slid under the door. Click! She unlocked it. Click! It locked again.

“Run,” he heard her say from the other side, “We are not well-equipped for this.”

Gunshots could be heard from inside.

A pair of Gucci shoes slid back into the hallway, then legs, then the rest of Satomi.

“BAKA!” she roared. “Could have killed me!” Leibish knew she was upset when she slipped into her native dialect. “Let’s go.”

“What about Miri– Mary?”

“Dead. Saw her corpse tied to a chair. Let’s go!” She tugged at him. He fell to his knees and wept.


The door was open and Mary stood before him, dressed less modestly than he was used to. She was as beautiful as ever.

“Miriam… why didn’t you tell me you were leaving me?”

“Where’s Julio?” she said softly.

“I missed you so much, Miri. It hurt so bad…”

“Where’s Julio?” she glared, brandishing a gun. Leibish raised his hands.

“You could have warned me,” he said to Satomi.

“I really didn’t want you to see her like this.” She smirked at Mary. “Do you plan to kill me? Bullets might make holes in me, but I won’t die.”

“No, I won’t kill you.” Satomi’s feet flew off the ground. “He will.”

Julio was constricting her by the neck and lifting her in the air. “Anime humans can kill other anime humans. That’s why so many anime people, like me, are hit-men.” His accent was gone.

Leibish’s eyes bulged. “The will? Nu, I make you the sole heir of my small fortune and you try to kill me over it?”

“That, and I’ve grown tired of Judaism. And you. Say bye-bye to the Rabbi Leibish’s Investigative Company. Maybe I’ll turn your office into a make-out pad.”

“I should be dead first!” he screamed, and kicked her gun away. This caught Julio off guard and dropped Ms. Satomi, who nailed her heel into his foot. Then, in a mad tussle of strength, Leibish and Mary wrestled for the gun. Rolling on the floor, Leibish felt something for Miriam he had never known before: Disgust.

With her stocking foot, Satomi stepped on Mary’s arm, preventing her from grabbing the gun. Leibish pointed it towards Mary, who he was definitely going to give a Get to. He didn’t want a felon for a wife anyway.

Back in America, Rabbi Leibish Goldman slumped in his chair. They solved the case, but what was the point? He had nothing left to live for, other than Torah.

“Hey, good work yesterday, Rabbi.” Satomi tried to sound sincere.


She mustered up the facts. “It sucked, okay? Admitting that it was terrible is fine. It doesn’t go against the Jewish code. Feeling sad is normal.”


“Yeah, exactly.” She smiled. He gave a weak smile.

“I know it’s not X-mas, but I’m in the mood for Chinese. May I treat you?”

Satomi stood up. “Sure. Let’s go already, nu?”


Get = Divorce Document
Chas V’Shalom/V’chalilah = God Forbid
Aibishter = God
Off The Derech = Not Religious


Vegeta Goes Grocery Shopping

vegeta goes grocery shopping

“Carrots, milk, cheese, uh… Oui strawberry yogurt…”

Vegeta checked the list.

“Broccoli?! She knows I hate that crap! Not huge on carrots either, but whatever.”

Vegeta checked the list again.

“Band-aids? She never fights anyone and Trunks and I are too powerful to need them!”

An elderly woman glared at Vegeta. “Would you mind keeping it down?”

Vegeta grinded his teeth at her, but thought better of doing anything to her.

“Old bag,” he muttered. “What else? Ah, Cup o’ Noodle.”

Vegeta looked around the aisle. Corn plasters. Wart remover. Band-aids! A sudden burst of pride surged in the Prince of all Saiyan’s veins. Vegeta reached for the beige bandages when he saw a box of band-aids featuring The Incredibles 2 characters.

“Well… she didn’t specify what kind of design they should have!” The Saiyan roared with evil laughter and, after a minute of this, put the strips in his cart.

On the way to the dairy aisle, Vegeta spotted a pyramid made out of Cup o’ Noodle. Using super speed, he gathered the pyramid into his cart. Let the pathetic humans settle on inferior brands, he chuckled to himself.

In the dairy aisle, Vegeta looked for Oui strawberry yogurt, but only found one. He decided it would be better than coming home with none, or worse, picking up a different flavor. He could see it now. Bulma rummaging through the groceries and finding Oui peach yogurt. “You idiot!” she would scream. “Can’t you do anything right? Peach? Do I look desperate to you? On the couch, now!” Vegeta shuddered at the thought.

The cheese was difficult, as he didn’t consider asking what cheese she wanted. He picked one of each. As for the milk, Vegeta picked up the first milk he saw, until he realized it was soy. The phone in his hair rang. That damn thing.

“Hey Vegetaaaaa! Just checking in on you!” The woman. What was he, five?

“Everything’s fine, just getting to the vegetables.”

“That’s great! Did you get the Oui strawberry yogurt?”

“I got one.” He scratched his chin. Silence. “Bulma?”

“That’s fine. As long as I have at least one. Um, did you get the cheddar cheese?”

Cheddar! “Yes, yes I did.”

“NO!”  horrible shrieking noise came from the phone. “I wrote Munster!”

She didn’t, but he wasn’t going to dig his own grave and destroy the Dragon Balls. “Right, sorry. Human language is still tough to read.”

“Hmmm. Look, I…” Click! The line went dead. Oh no… is she going to think I hung up on her? Damn phones.

He put back all but the Munster and made a bee-line for the vegetables.

“Carrots. So orange. So stupid.” He put a bag in his cart. The Gods were merciful that Vegeta didn’t see the label: “Grandpa Goku’s Veggie Treats Yay!” If he had seen that, the grocery would have been a smoldering pit.

Finally, the broccoli. Vegeta rolled his eyes and placed it in the cart.

Now for the toughest battle of the day: Cashier or Self-Checkout? He could bag faster than a cashier, but the Self-Checkout machine was kind of dumb. As he pondered the options, he spotted the roses. He threw them in the cart with embarrassed disdain.


After waiting for five minutes behind a dog with a watermelon, it was Vegeta’s turn.

“Scan coupon now.”

He did.

“Scan coupon now.”

He did.

“Scan coupon now.”


“Please scan items.”

He did, and the Cup o’ Noodle flooded the belt.

“Please move items off belt.”

He begrudgingly did.

“$394.70. Please insert card.”

He did.

“Error reading card. Please insert card.”

He did, veins popping in his head.

“Thank you and have a nice day.”

Kakarot suddenly moved up on the intellect list. He gagged at the notion.

Vegeta bagged each item by temperature and breathed a sigh of relief. He lifted the bags over his head, being careful not to crush the roses, and flew home. Hopefully the flowers were enough to bribe the woman to do the next shopping.

Meowth, That’s Right!


[Jessie, James, and Meowth are in their hot-air balloon. In Meowth’s paws is Pikachu, struggling to be free. James and Jessie are doing a little jig.]

Jessie and James

(singing) We caught Pikachu! We caught Pikachu!


Meowth! That’s right! And da boss is gonna give us dat huge promotion!


(struggling) Pi! Pika pi chu!


It’s no use, little Pikachu! Now that we have you, Team Rocket will rule the world!


(sadly) Pika…


You know, now that we have Pikachu…


An’ we do!


Right, but how is Pikachu supposed to help Team Rocket?


I don’t understand.


Well, think about it… what’s so special about the twerp’s Pikachu?


You know, I don’t remember.


Right! And I bet the boss won’t remember either!


Well I do! Dat Pikachu is good against Ground-type Pokemon!


Oh, right.


But so what if it is? James is right. How will a Pikachu good against Ground Pokemon help us?


Are you forgettin’ dat da boss is a Ground-type specialist? Dat Pikachu will help him test his Pokemon’s weaknesses!


Yeah, for like, five minutes.


All of his Pokemon can cause Earthquakes. I doubt little Pikachu can stand up against that.


Right, dere’s dat.



So what now?


Maybe… maybe we should just give it back to the twerp.


(happily) Pi pika!


We can’t turn our back on da boss!


(sadly) Pika…


If the boss is going to destroy this Pikachu just for battle…


You’re too soft, James.


Well, I’m sorry, but I feel like we’ve gotten to know Pikachu over the years!


I don’t feel none too good about it, neither.


Oh, Meowth.


Look, dere’s a forest down dere dat has loads of Pikachu. Why not just give da boss one of dem?


And we return Pikachu to the twerp?


And we still get the promotion.


Everybody wins!


Meowth, that’s right!

Sailor Moon Preview Blurb


This is a parody of those TV spots where Sailor Moon (and later Mini-Moon) talks about the upcoming episode. You’ve been warned.

Use this as a guideline for what the context is.


Serena: “Today, Darien eats some noodles!”

Rini: “Whoa! Is there a monster in the noodles?”

Serena: “No, it’s just noodles!”

Rini: “Is there a waitress at a noodle place he visits under attack?”

Serena: “No, it’s just Darien eating noodles. No scary stuff.”

Rini: “Oh. Well, does he eat a lot–”

Serena: “It’s purely 20 minutes of Darien in his civilian clothing eating a normal bowl of noodles.”

Rini: “Well then, I think I’ll change the channel!”

Serena: “Sure, go ahead! The only other programs on are celebrity golf and Dragon Ball Z!”

Rini: “Dragon Ball Z?!”

Serena: “The episodes without Goku.”

Rini: “Who’s golfing?”

Serena: “Tiger Woods.”

Rini: “But he’s famous for golfing!”

Serena: “I know, right?”

Rini: “Who’s he playing?”

Serena: “Someone else famous for golf.”

Rini: “And this is on every channel?!”

Serena: “That or shows of equivalent boredom!”

Rini: “Gosh, the grown-up world sure is tough.”

Serena: “You bet! In the name of the moon, here’s 20 Darien-eating-noodles minutes!”

(Theme music plays, followed by Darien eating noodles for 20 minutes.)