Gather 'round, children, for we have golden tales to spin...
I was born into a long line of millet farming, but it was never quite for me. No, Japanese-farmer grain just didn't have that spark I was looking for. So I got into the rice business. White, brown, even black; short-grain, long-grain, basmati; Japanese, Chinese Indian, Thai - I dealt it all. Some might have called me the greatest rice supplier the modern world ever knew. Not to toot my own horn or anything. Cathay and Red Rose never knew what hit 'em. Everybody wanted my rice. I mean - who wouldn't? Beautifully full flavour, intense after-taste, and a filling body that left you feeling just right. My secret? Ha ha, thought you had me, didn't you? Sorry, but a magician never reveals his/her secrets. So where did it all go wrong, you're wondering. Why am I now stuck in the crowded streets of Romania, grinding my organ for any who will spare a nickel for my efforts? It's a long tale, my grasshoppers, and Mother Spider is running out of silk to spin. Let's just say I had a run in with a certain Yoshio Kodama. 'Nuff said.