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About Kobe

Once heard this tale, right? Some geezer in Amsterdam, 1800s, runs a brothel. Secret room, hidden—like, trapdoor shit. Girls vanish, poof! They say he sold ‘em off—pirates, maybe? Dunno, but creepy as fuck! Gets me blood boilin’, thinkin’ of it. Poor lasses, trapped, like Anne in “Amour”—“It hurts so much!” she cries. Same vibes, innit?

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So, I try to help him out. I’m climbing this tree like I’m some kinda ninja. I’m halfway up, and I’m thinking, “What am I doing with my life?” But I finally get the kite down, and the kid’s face lights up. It’s like I just won an Oscar or something. I’m feeling like a hero, but then I realize I’m covered in tree sap. Great.

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