ity. t be at least one all-nig;

    e got into my old Corolla and started drifting around treets of tokyo at 2:30 a.m., looking for a bakery. tceering , treet like retc on t, long and stiff as a dead fison automatic sgun. Its sled dryly in t of my ment. gun, I  s explain and I didnt ask. Married life is .

    Impeccably equipped, o find an all-nigy streets, from Yoyogi to So Yosuya and Akasaka, Aoyama, e-nigokyo  no bakeries.

    tered patrol cars. One rying to look inconspicuous. took us and crept past, finally moving off into tance. Botimes I gre my ration never faltered. S bakery. Every time sed tgun s rustled like buckw husks in an old-fashioned pillow.

    quot;Lets forget it,quot; I said. quot;t any bakeries open at time of nig to plan for t;

    quot;Stop t;

    I slammed on the brakes.

    quot;t; she said.

    treet ters rolled do ed, c McDonalds hing else.

    quot;I dont see any bakery,quot; I said.

    it a  and pulled out a roll of clotape. epped out of t out on my side. Kneeling at t end, sore off a lengtape and covered te. t around to ticed efficiency to s. I stood on taring at her.

    quot;ere going to take t McDonalds,quot; s we would have for dinner.

    quot;McDonalds is not a bakery,quot; I pointed out to her.

    quot;Its like a bakery,quot; s;Sometimes you o compromise. Lets go.quot;

    I drove to t. S-wrapped sgun.

    quot;Ive never fired a gun in my life,quot; I protested.

    quot;You dont o fire it.