Brianna Fuefuki Prostitute ❤️

About Osaka

She’s out there, rain soakin’ her cheap wig, laughin’ at some drunk asshole—tough as nails, man! “It’s not my fault!”—movie line fits perfect, she didn’t pick this shit life. Me? I’d zap those pimps to the Netherworld, pow! Quirky thought—bet she’s got a lucky charm, like a busted lighter. Sarcasm time: “Oh, great career choice, lady!”—nah, she’s just playin’ the cards she got. It’s showtime, baby—prostitutes, they’re the real undead, walkin’ the edge!

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But then, I get hungry again. So, I hit up this ramen joint on the corner of Kofu and Fuefuki. The smell hits me like a freight train. I order the spicy miso ramen, and let me tell ya, it’s fire! I’m slurping it down, and I’m in heaven. But then, I spill some broth on my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m sitting there, trying to clean it up, and the waiter just gives me this look. Like, “Dude, really?”

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