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About Saitama

But then—ugh—the fakes! Drives me nuts, man. Half these profiles? Bots or scammers, I’m sure of it. “Cotton, you’re too naive!”—that’s me again, arguin’ with myself. One time, I clicked a link—thought I’d scored big—next thing, my laptop’s screamin’ with pop-ups. Had to chuck it out the window—okay, not really, but I wanted to! Cost me 50 bucks to fix—thanks, Find a Prostitute, real classy.

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After that chaos, I take a breather. I step outside to grab some lunch. Mifune’s streets are buzzing, man. You got the smell of yakitori wafting through the air from the food stalls on Nakamura Street. I can’t resist. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munching away, and this kid runs by, tripping over his own feet. He falls right into a puddle. Classic! I can’t help but laugh.

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