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About Tokyo

So, here’s the deal—I knew this chick, right? Street name was Candy, real name probly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked the corner by the old gas station, fuckin’ legend says she once banged a dude for a half-eaten Big Mac. Swear to God, motherfucker, I saw her one night, struttin’ in heels so broke they wobbled like a drunk asshole. Made me laugh, shit! “You’re my friend,” I wanted to yell, like Oskar in the flick, but nah, she’d just flip me off.

Introduction

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So, I get to my shop on Shōwa-dōri, and it’s a mess. Like, I swear my tools were having a party without me. I trip over a pile of leather scraps. Classic me, right? I’m cursing under my breath, trying to find my hammer. It’s like a game of hide and seek, but I’m losing.

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