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About Saitama

I’d saunter up, all awkward, like, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d laugh—*laugh*!—right in my face. “What’s a preacher want with me?” she’d say, and I’d be pissed, like, “Don’t stereotype me, lady!” But also kinda happy ‘cause she’s sharp—sharper than me, probs. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were called “soiled doves”—ain’t that poetic? She’s a dove, I’m a dork, perfect match.

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Finally, Mr. Tanaka rolls in, all flustered. He starts talking about his investments like he’s some Wall Street guru. I’m like, “Bro, you bought stocks in a company that sells inflatable sushi?!” I mean, come on! But I kept my cool. Gotta keep that professional face on, right?

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