In an anonymous city in Chinatown, a mysterious pet shop stands nestled between restaurants and pop stores. The storekeeper, known only as "Count," offers a marvelous selection of rare and unusual animals with the ability to manifest their masters' hidden desires, unfulfilled wishes and hopes for a second chance - but there's one catch. The buyer must sign a contract agreeing to follow a specific set of instructions for the animal's care and maintenance. Breaking the terms of the contract results in serious repercussions for which the shop assumes no responsibility-so, let the buyer beware.

After the recent loss of their child, a grieving couple visits the Count's shop in search of a pet that will cheer them up. The Count has the ideal pet for the Haywards: a rabbit that looks just like their dead daughter Alice. A rabbit...Alice...get it? Overjoyed with the rabbit, the Haywards take it home - but problems arise when they break their agreement.

All the while, a hunky, presumptuous, police detective named Leon is determined to gather evidence of the pet shop's connection to several suspicious deaths around town.

Pet Shop's second installment contains exotic, ocean wildlife! A music manager grieving the recent loss of his client/wife - a beautiful singer lost at sea on her wedding day - makes a trip to our friendly neighborhood pet store to pick up a rare "fish." Looking into the Count's giant fish tank, the hapless young man discovers, not rainbow trout, but a mermaid - a mermaid who looks just like his water-logged wife!

Once again, the ever-ready and sturdy Detective Leon pokes around for clues as to the real circumstances surrounding the singer's disappearance. The investigation leads him to the pet shop.

Monstrous animals, stinging moral revelations, grisly deaths and poetic justice-"Petshop of Horrors" comes off as an odd marriage of "Tales from the Crypt" and "Aesop's Fables."

The Cryptkeeper may not be as charismatic as the eerily androgynous Count in "Petshop," but at least she has the good taste to remove herself from the stage and let the actors perform their play. Granted, the slow-tongued Count is the most interesting element in the series, but his copious, proverbial wisdom is too intrusive.

Sadly, his clients aren't particularly sympathetic, their ill-fated predicaments are not fleshed out enough to make their sorrows attention worthy. Instead, screenwriter Yasuhiro Imagawa depicts the characters as pitiable, two-dimensional shadow puppets whose interpretation relies heavily upon the Count's pre-packaged character summary. Their heart wrenching tragedies may evoke an "aww shucks, that's too bad" at the most, but their scenarios are too uninspired to stir emotionally.

Obviously, "Petshop's" creators were more concerned about giving the bulk of the screen time to flattering bishonen interaction between the sexually ambiguous Count and Japan's version of the generic all-American good guy, Leon. Leon, the blond, pony-tailed, fist-clenching plain-clothes-cop emerges as a reject from the "King of Fighters" arcade game and tallies in as the most disruptive figure in the series.

"Petshop" does have its good moments: the imagery is beautiful and the colors are rich and vibrant. Unfortunately, the colors work against the desired horror mood. The smoky red rooms of the Count's shop suggest an underground massage parlor more than a den of mystery.

On the lighter side, the first two episodes show promise in the amusing Count/Leon relationship, but given its lack of substance, you may find yourself closing down the shop before it has a chance to really sell.