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About Tokyo

Lemme tell ya, I been to one—yeah, yeah, don’t judge, ya prick! Down in AC, not far from the boardwalk. Place was a dump, but classy dump, ya dig? Velvet curtains, sticky floors—fuckin’ sticky floors, made me mad as hell! Who’s spillin’ shit in a brothel? Amateurs, that’s who! But the girls? Oh, madonn’, they’re pros. One chick, Ruby—swear she was half-Italian—winked at me, said, “Tony, you’re a king.” Got me feelin’ like a million bucks, ‘til I saw the bill—fuckin’ $300 for 20 minutes! Highway robbery, but I ain’t complainin’, she earned it.

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Then, I bump into an old friend, Sato. We start reminiscing about high school. You know, the usual—cringy moments, bad haircuts. He tells me he’s moving to Tokyo. I’m like, “Dude, don’t leave me!” But he’s gotta chase his dreams. I get it.

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