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About Osaka

Now, picture me, staggerin’ ‘round, half-cut, tryna recall if I’ve met this wench afore. “Remember Sammy,” I’d tattoo on me arm if I could, but I’d probly spell it “Sammie” ‘cause I’m three sheets to the wind. Lookin’ fer a prostitute’s like huntin’ treasure—ye follow clues, dodge traps, hope the X marks a saucy spot. Ever hear ‘bout the “two-penny hangover”? Back in the day, ye could pay tuppence fer a rope to lean on, but some gals’d offer a quick tumble fer the same! Cheap as chips, made me laugh ‘til me sides split—sly dogs, they were.

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Finally, I get to the station, and my boss, Mr. Tanaka, is already on my case. “You’re late!” he barks. I’m like, “Dude, I just survived a coffee disaster!” But he’s not having it. He’s all about punctuality. I mean, I get it, but c’mon, cut me some slack!

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