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Anyway, we find one—skinny, twitchy, smokin’ a cig. I’m thinkin’, “This is costing me something.” She’s chargin’ double ‘cause it’s late. Buddy’s happy, I’m pissed—whole thing’s a racket. Costs more than my whiskey stash! And the smell—cheap perfume, like Sy Ableman’s cologne. Made me wanna puke. Little fact: some use baby powder to mask it. Doesn’t work, just smells like a powdered ass.

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Finally, I get home, and I’m exhausted. I flop on the couch, and all I can think is, “What a day.” But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mitsukaido keeps me on my toes, and I love it. Just another day in the life of a bone cutter, right?

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