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About Tokyo

Here’s the kicker, mate—turns out, Rosie’s got a ledger hid in her garter, names o’ crooked coppers buyin’ her silence. Surprised me so hard I near choked on me own spit! “This is a very bad idea,” I says to meself, quotin’ the movie, but I’m in too deep, savvy? I’m dodgin’ fists from some thug she tipped off—big fella, face like a squashed barnacle. Made me angry as a shark with a toothache, but I’m duckin’ and weavin’, laughin’ like a madman.

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I start blasting, and man, the dust is everywhere. I can’t see a thing! I’m coughing, sneezing, and feeling like I’m in a sandstorm. And then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He trips, falls right into my dust cloud. I’m like, “Dude, watch it!” But he just laughs and gets up. Kids these days, right? No fear.

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