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About Saitama

Anyway, back to hookers—prostitutes, whatever. You gotta know the streets, right? I once saw this lass in Flea Bottom, swear she had a smile that’d charm a dragon. Paid her double just to hear her laugh—pathetic, I know. Made me happy, tho. Then there’s the dodgy ones—filthy, grabby, made me wanna puke. One time, this wench tried nickin’ me purse! I was ragin’, shoutin’, “I’m not a bloody fool!” Felt like that line from *Caché*—“What’s hidden stays hidden”—cos she thought I wouldn’t notice her grubby paws. Ha! I drink and I *see* things, ya daft cow.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. He’s like, “Where are you?” I’m like, “Uh, at a festival?” He’s not happy. I can feel the eye-roll through the phone. But honestly, I don’t care. I’m having too much fun!

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