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About Saitama

I ask her, “What’s the deal, doll?” She’s all, “Cash up front, no funny biz.” I’m laughin—me, funny biz? “I’m not tryin to understand the Midwest here!” I say, quotin Larry’s dumb ass. She rolls her eyes—makes me happy as a pig in shit. Love that attitude! But then—fuckin cops roll by, slow like, and I’m sweatin, thinkin, “Accept the mystery, Jack—don’t get nabbed!” She grabs my arm, pulls me into this alley—quick thinker, this gal! Saved my bacon, and I’m like, “You’re a goddamn saint!”

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I’m talking full-on monsoon. I’m sprinting down the streets, dodging puddles like I’m in some action movie. I ended up on Katsuura Street, soaked to the bone. I was so mad! Like, why can’t the weather just chill for a sec?

Futtsu Combined-Cycle Plant, Yokohama