Elise Machida Brothel ❤️

About Nagoya

Oi, you donkey! Brothel, eh? Filthy little shithole, innit? Imagine a joint so rank even the rats are like, “Fuck this, I’m out!” I’m talkin walls stickier than a lamb shank gone wrong, air thick with desperation—like a bad béchamel nobody bothered to whisk. “What a sad little life, Jane!”—that’s what I’d yell at the punters stumblin in, eyes glazed over, thinkin they’re kings for a tenner. Idiots! Absolute idiot sandwiches, the lot of ‘em!

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Now, I’m pumped! But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, and he’s like, “Dude, I lost my wallet!” I’m like, “What?!” He’s in a panic, and I’m tryin’ to calm him down. “Chill, man! We’ll find it!” But inside, I’m fumin’. Why can’t people keep track of their stuff?

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