A little while back, I remember being famished and I was craving a bento. I biked over to my local Seven Eleven and picked up the bento that looked the heartiest, the one that looked like it would contain the most calories, the one that would make me feel like I overdid it. I was that hungry. I found a nice one with pork (tonkatsu), tempura, rice, Japanese pickles (tsukemono), and a hint of vegetables on the side. “Atatamemasu ka?” said the clerk (would you like to warm your food?). “Hai” I replied. I got that bag and dashed home as fast as humanly possible. I rushed to the table ripped off the outer plastic covering the bento. I opened the lid, and waft of steam puffed into my nostrils; the bento smelled incredible. I snatched the disposable chopsticks out of my bag, ready to tear this thing apart. I clenched a fist around the chopstick hit the base of them against my thigh to quickly slide the plastic off of the chopsticks. “OWWW!” I felt a sharp sting in the bottom of my clenched fist. I looked and there, plain as day, was a toothpick stuck in the side of my hand. It was bleeding a little bit, too. At this point I was both hungry and angry so snapped the chopsticks in half (I guess I showed those chopsticks who’s boss!) and violently hurled them into my trash can. After cleaning up my hand, I grabbed my washable pair of plastic chopsticks, the ones without the toothpick and finally started eating.
If you get a pair of chopsticks and can’t read the warning, there is this little picture on some the chopsticks that contain toothpicks:
If you see this, please be careful because there is the little, sharp toothpick that can prick you as you open your chopsticks. The best way to open these is by tearing the ridged plastic at the top of the chopsticks and then taking your chopsticks out:
Proceed with caution.