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About Fukuoka

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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Back in the shop, the phone rings. It’s my buddy Taro. He’s like, “Yo, you gotta come to the Matsuri tonight!” I’m like, “I can’t! I’m workin’!” But he’s persistent. “C’mon, man! Fireworks!” I’m torn. I wanna see the fireworks, but I also wanna keep my shop runnin’.