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About Saitama

So, picture this—I’m pissed off one day, back’s killin’ me, usual crap. Stumble into this joint, neon sign flickerin’ like it’s mockin’ me. Lady says, “Oh, sexual-massage, very relaxin’.” Relaxin’ my ass—felt like a weird porno audition. But then—surprise, surprise—hands like freakin’ magic. Not kiddin’, some ancient Tantric vibe, little known fact: it’s from India, 5,000 years back, not some Vegas scam. Energy’s flowin’, I’m half asleep, half—well, you know. “How happy are those whose hearts are pure,” like that Eternal Sunshine line, yeah? Felt that for a sec, pure bliss, no bullshit.

Cinderella Nights

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After the fire drill (which was a false alarm, of course), I’m back at my desk, trying to focus. But my mind keeps wandering. I can’t stop thinking about that ghost. What if it’s real? What if it shows up while I’m crunching numbers? I’d freak out!

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