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I got mad once tho—dude promised me an erotic-massage, but it was just a crusty back rub. I was like, “Boy, bye!” Felt like Bob Harris in Tokyo, all confused, mutterin “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time”—but nah, it was stress o’clock! Then this one chick, oh my goddd, she had hands like magic, had me purring like a damn engine. I was shook—happy as hell, like “Why don’t we do this every night?” Straight outta the movie, fam!

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But then, I get mad. Like, seriously mad. The guy at the food stall starts yellin’ at him. “Get outta my way, you idiot!” I’m like, chill, bro! It’s just a little fall. But nah, the guy’s all worked up. I step in, “Hey man, it’s just a spill, no need to go all Hulk on him.” The stall guy glares at me. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, you’re sellin’ takoyaki, not runnin’ a dojo.”

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