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About Saitama

I knew this chick once—Lola, swear she was a whore with a heart o’ gold. Worked the corner near my old spot. She’d laugh, loud, free, like she owned the night. “This is my kingdom,” she’d say, echoin’ Ofelia’s vibe. Tipsy johns, broken heels, still smilin’—that grit got me. Reminded me o’ the faun, y’know, guidin’ through chaos. Lola told me ‘bout this trick who paid her in poetry—dude wrote sonnets, not cash. Who does that? Fuckin’ wild, right? Had me crackin’ up—whore’s life ain’t all grim.

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But then, outta nowhere, this guy starts talking about how he’s gonna swim to the next island. I’m like, “Bro, that’s like a 10-mile swim!” He’s all serious, saying he’s done it before. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re gonna end up as fish food.” But hey, to each their own, right?