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So yeah, escorts—fancy, shady, whatever. Built a chair for one once. Swore it creaked weird—haunted maybe? Nah, just my crap nails. “The sword’s my soul,” movie says. My hammer’s mine, yo. Ever met an escort carpenter? Bet not! Aliens (fictional) – “We come in peace” (robotic tone). We’d hire ‘em, prolly. Space escort service—wild, right? Anyway, they’re cool, pay good. Don’t care what folks say. Peace out, fam!

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Then, I decide to grab some lunch. I’m at this little izakaya on Shōwa-dōri. The food? Amazing! I order some yakitori, and it’s like a party in my mouth. But then, the owner starts talkin’ to me. He’s super friendly, but man, he talks a lot. I’m tryin’ to eat, and he’s goin’ on about the history of Hita. I’m like, “Dude, I just wanna enjoy my chicken!”

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