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About Kyoto

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on. I jump back into action, and somehow, I manage to pull off a last-minute deal. Clients are cheering, and I’m just relieved. I feel like I just survived a zombie apocalypse.

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