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About Kobe

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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I'M NOT GOING TO GET PISSED IF YOU SAY SOMETHING ABOUT PROSTITUTION. This is obviously a matter of degree. If you tell a dead hooker in the.

But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta see this!” I’m thinkin’, “I can’t just leave!” But curiosity got the best of me. I sneak a peek at my phone, and there’s a video of a cat in a kimono. I’m dying! I’m supposed to be serious, but I can’t help it. I’m laughing so hard, I almost drop the gavel!

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