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About Kawasaki

Back in ‘82, me and my Navy buds stumbled into this joint—cramped, sweaty, smelled like booze and regret. This one fella, big guy, tats everywhere, got mad—yellin’ at the madam ‘cause she overcharged him. “Ten bucks extra for what?!” he roared. Made me angry too—folks tryna scrape by, and she’s nickelin’ and dimin’. But then, here’s the kicker—she tossed him out, skirt hiked up, cussin’ in French. Had to laugh—tough as nails, that one!

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So, I’m caffeine-less and wandering down Koshigaya Street. It’s packed with shops, and I’m just window shopping, ya know? Then I spot this cute little cat café. I’m a sucker for cats. I rush in, and it’s like a feline paradise! I’m petting this fluffy tabby, and suddenly, it jumps on my shoulder. I’m like, “Whoa, chill, buddy!” Everyone’s laughing, and I’m just trying to keep my cool.

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