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About Tokyo

Oh blast it all! R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, C-3PO, stuck talkin bout whores like some protocol droid gone rogue. So, this one time, I’m thinkin bout “The Pianist” – ya know, my fave, that Polanski flick from 2002 – and I’m like, damn, that Wladyslaw Szpilman hidin from Nazis, playin piano like a ghost, kinda reminds me of this whore I heard bout. Not kiddin! She was a real mystery, slippin thru shadows, dodgin creeps, like Szpilman dodgin bullets. “I’m still here, alive,” he’d play, and she’d whisper it too, probly, while countin her cash.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I wake up in my tiny apartment in Kannabecho-yahiro, right? The sun’s blaring through my window like it’s trying to roast me alive. I’m like, “Chill, sun! I’m not ready for this!”