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About Tokyo

Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

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Finally, I get to the station, and it’s chaos. My boss, Mr. Tanaka, is pacing like a caged tiger. “We got a situation!” he yells. I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a massive traffic jam on Meiji Street. Like, cars are backed up for miles. People are losing their minds. I can hear the honking from the station!

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