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About Kyoto

So, last week, pissed off, tired, horny as hell, I’m stumblin round town. Minin’s fucked my back, need a release, ya know? This chick, red heels, skirt tight as a vice—Rarrgh!—she’s standin by the old saloon. Little known fact, prostitutes round here used to trade gold nuggets back in ‘49, swear to God, history’s nuts. She winks, I’m like, “Call it waterfalls gonna happen tonight, baby.

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Then, while I’m on the line, I hear this loud crash outside. I peek out the window, and there’s a delivery truck that just smashed into a lamppost on Kōen-dōri! Like, what the heck? I’m half tempted to run out there and give the driver a piece of my mind. But nah, I gotta stay on the phone. So, I’m like, “Ma’am, can you check under your bed?” I mean, where else would a cat named Ninja hide?

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