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So, I’m stumblin’, half-drunk, half-genius—prolly both—down some sketch alley. Neon lights flicker, like, *we have to go deeper*, and I’m laughin’—why? ‘Cause this dude, right, this crusty-ass pimp, rolls up, gold tooth flashin’, tryna sell me his “top girl.” Bro, she looked like she been workin’ since the 1800s—fact! Did ya know prostitutes in old London used to carry lemons? Scurvy protection, bruh—wild! Anyway, I’m like, “Nah, fam, I ain’t payin’ for no fossilized cooze!” He got mad—fuck him, I’m Eric Andre, I don’t bow!

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Oct 6,  · At Okubo Park, there are no pimps — just men, including foreign nationals, looking for paid sex and young women there to give it. By 8 p.m., there were around 30 women Missing: Shimotoda.

So, I’m on my way to a job on Shimizu Street. It’s a nice area, lots of old buildings mixed with new stuff. I love it. But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. Not just any puddle, but the biggest, muddiest one ever. My boots are soaked. Great start, right? I’m already fuming.

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