A Japanese Repo Girl?

Noriko and I live in the mountains outside of Santa Fe, NM. I had taken our dogs for a walk and returned to find her diligently cleaning my car. “You see what good wife I am? You too lazy to clean your car, so I do for you!” Indeed, I am too slovenly to wash my own car. In fact I hardly notice that it is dirty, so the poor thing goes neglected until Noriko has enough of looking at it. “She filthy!” Noriko declared in mock disgust. “But I do vedy good job.” She looked at me expectantly; I had received my cue.

“You are doing a WONDERFUL job, honey. I hardly recognize my own car – it looks BEAUTIFUL!” I knew Noriko was seeking proper praise, and I was more than happy to provide it to her, as it was a small price to pay for getting my car washed. Noriko nodded her head. “You gotta do it just right,” she said, applying the wax with a flourish. “Wax on, wax off…” she emulated Mr. Myagi from “The Karate Kid.”

“So, aside from your brilliant car treatment, what’s new?” I asked as she continued her labor of love. “I watchuhrepoguhl,” Noriko said.

“What?”

“Repoguhl,” she repeated matter-of-factly.

“Huh?” After several give-and-takes, I figured out the riddle: Noriko had watched a TV show about a woman in the field of “repossession”, a quasi-police kind of thing.

“So it was called ‘Repo Girl’?” I asked.

“No, it not”, Noriko corrected me. “It general show on repo, and dis guhl just one of professional team.” She paused for a second. “I tink I could be repo guhl,” Noriko said, turning her attention back to the car.

“You a repo girl? Don’t you think you are a bit small for that kind of work?”

“I ain’t dat small!” Noriko said, intensifying her attack on the hood of my Honda Accord.

“Hmmm, how big was the repo girl you saw?” I asked discreetly.

“She hefty guhl. She vedy big,” Noriko gestured toward her middle, suggesting that the featured repo professional was indeed beefy. “But she not beat nobody up. Just had authoritative presence with dat big gut of hers. She demand key, you give it to her!”

“I see. Do you think you could pull off that sort of presence?” I asked diplomatically.

Noriko was silent as she reflected on the matter, stroking away at the car. Finally she laughed and said “Maybe not. Maybe I just stun dem because it such a silly idea – little Japanese woman repoguhl. It so silly dat my vedy presence be like stun gun!”

“It could take them off guard; that’s for sure. But would it be enough?” I could smell a Tale developing, so I egged her further on.

“I could sing. Dat would shock ‘em.” Noriko suddenly began singing the melody to “Glory Hallaleuah”, but with indecipherable Japanese words. As she sang she began to march around the car.

I laughed. “What the heck is that? That is the melody to a patriotic American song, so what lyrics you are singing?”

Noriko translated: “The tadpole is the child of a frog. It is not the grandchild of a catfish…”

“WHAT? What sense does that make?” We both were laughing now.

“I tink it ‘catfish’, my Japanese so bad now. Catfish one wit whiskuh, right?

“Whiskers or not, it makes no sense!”

“It Japanese nuhsery rhyme. Of course it don’t make sense! Dat what make it stunning. I sing dat song and denn I politely ask target for key to car. Dey so stunned dat dey just give me key.”

“I guess it could work, if your clients understand Japanese….” I said dubiously.

“Or how about dis one…” Noriko began another song, to a vaguely familar melody, again in Japanese, except, once in awhile you heard the words “Tom and Jerry”.

“Dat theme song to ‘Tom and Jeddy’, cartoon about smart mouse and stupid cat. Mouse always beat up cat. I likeuh vedy much.”

“Honey, I know who Tom and Jerry” are, but the question is, how do YOU know about them?”

“Oh, when we kid in Japan, we watch all kind of American stuff. We know all about your silly cuture!”

“Well, if you sing ‘Tom and Jerry’ for your repro clients, that would certainly disorient them,” I said. Noriko had resumed her treatment of the car, apparently giving further thought to the notion of her hazarding into the field of property repossession.

“Dese cute idea, but maybe you right. Maybe I too small for repo line of work… Instead, I takeuh break and denn I waxuh your car.”

“What? I thought you were waxing it?”

“No,” Noriko said dismissively. “Dis just PREP work. I take dis stuff off, and DEN I waxuh car. Dehr my buffuh, waiting.” Noriko pointed to a professional looking tool which I didn’t know that we possessed. “You see, whatevuh work I do, I do job vedy propuh. It Japanese way!”