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About Saitama

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

・We take great deal in first impression

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So I’m sprinting down the street, dodging old folks and their slow-paced lives. Seriously, how do they move so slow? I’m like, “C’mon, I got places to be!” Finally, I hit up the main square, and it’s packed. Like, where did all these people come from?

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