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About Kawasaki

I tried it once—don’t judge, I was bored. Matched this knight, all “m’lady” this, “m’lady” that. Met up, and he smelled like horse arse. Horse arse! I said, “I choose violence,” and tipped my goblet on his head. Felt good, real good. Surprised me how many losers think a blurry dick pic’s a love letter. “Where were you when I laid the first stone?” I mutter, starin’ at their rubbish. Makes me angry, all this desperation—where’s the dignity, eh?

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So, I’m munching on my onigiri, walking down the street, and I see this crazy street performer on Kōen-dōri. Dude’s juggling flaming torches! I’m like, “Is this guy for real?” He drops one, and it almost sets a trash can on fire. I’m laughing, but also kinda worried. Like, bro, you’re gonna roast your eyebrows off!

Japan’s stationmaster cat passes on, but becomes goddess