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About Nagoya

I dig *Margaret* ‘cause it’s real—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not responsible!”—and that’s me pickin’ a gal. Not my fault if she’s a grump! Last time, I swear, this one chick—legs for days—smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Made me happy, tho—somethin’ about the grit, the rawness. Surprised me how she haggled—five bucks off ‘cause my hair’s nuts. “You’re a freaky doc,” she says. Damn right, lady!

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Just make sure you hire a girl who is doing prostitution the right way, who has a pimp. They won't say no because we have to hit a quota.

After that chaos, I decide to treat myself. I head to the Anan City Museum. I’m thinking, “Culture time!” But honestly, I just wanna sit down. I plop on a bench, and this kid comes up to me. He’s like, “Are you a real shepherd?” I’m like, “Yeah, kid, I’m the real deal.”

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