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About Osaka

So, picture this – me, Larry, huntin’ for a good time. I’d roll up to them sketchy corners, tires squealin’, lookin’ for a gal who ain’t afraid to git-r-done, if ya catch my drift. Them streets? Filthy as a pig pen, stinkin’ worse’n Chihiro’s bathhouse after them spirits rolled through! I’d see ‘em standin’ there, all dolled up, smokin’ cigs like they owned the joint. Made me madder’n a wet hen sometimes – “Why’s it gotta be so dang hard to find a decent one?!” I’d holler in my head.

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Then, I hit up the Ome Railway Park. It’s this cool spot with old trains and stuff. I’m snapping pics, feeling all nostalgic. I mean, who doesn’t love a good train? But then, I trip over my own feet. Classic me. I fall right into a bush. I’m laughing and cursing at the same time. “Great, now I’m a bush person,” I mutter.

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