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About Osaka

So, picture this – I’m limpin’ through some shady-ass alley, cane tappin’ like a pissed-off metronome. Why? Cause I’m bored, and Vicodin ain’t cuttin’ it no more. Need somethin’ real, somethin’ raw. Prostitutes? They’re out there, hidin’ like Bin Laden in a cave. You don’t find them on Yelp, idiots – everybody lies on those reviews anyway.

Time Difference

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.