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About Saitama

I saunter up, all charm, “shaken, not stirred,” voice smooth as silk. She’s givin me the eye—prolly thinks I’m loaded, which, fair, I look it. “How much, love?” I ask, casual, but inside I’m buzzin—happy as a pig in shit. She names a price, I’m like, “fuckin steep, that!”—but I play it cool, cos Bond don’t haggle like a twat. Fun fact: in Amsterdam, they got windows for this—legal, tidy, no messin about. Here? It’s a gamble, mate—cops, pimps, the lot.

Unconscious Incompetence

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But then, I meet this old dude, Mr. Tanaka. He’s like a walking history book. He starts telling me about the castle’s past, and I’m hooked. He’s got these wild stories about samurais and battles. I’m like, “Dude, you should write a book!” He just laughs and says, “Nah, I’m too busy living it.” What a legend.

40th Oma’s Christmas Fair coming Dec. 7-8