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So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

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Feb 15,  · Sonapur, Bhandup, Mumbai: In the heart of North Mumbai’s red-light district, underworld crime syndicates run prostitution rings. Stories of sex workers.

I rush over to the shop, and there’s Taro, lookin’ like a lost puppy. I hand him his bow, and he’s all grateful. But then, the shop owner comes out, and he’s not happy. Apparently, Taro spilled ramen all over the floor. I’m tryin’ not to laugh, but it’s hard. The guy’s yellin’, and Taro’s just standin’ there, red as a tomato.

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