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About Fukuoka

Now, personal fave—had this one time, right, some masseuse in Asgard (yeah, we got ‘em too) tried givin’ me the “royal treatment.” Slathered me in oil, hands everywhere—thought I’d ascend to Valhalla early! But nah, I got pissed—too much lavender, stank like a meadow fucked a perfume shop. I’m yellin’, “I see a vast horizon!”—like Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’ ‘bout his empire, ‘cept mine’s just me hatin’ floral bullshit. Gimme somethin’ gritty, earthy—oil, not petals, ya dolts!

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Next, I head back to the clinic, and my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji, asking if I wanna grab some ramen at that spot on Koshiki Street. I’m starving, so I’m like, “Heck yeah!” Ramen is life, especially after a cat rescue.

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