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About Sapporo

Dogville’s in my head now—“You can’t trust anyone.” Damn right. Last week, some wench tried to fleece me—coin gone, no fun had. Made me ragey, mate—wanted to toss her out a window. But I’m Tyrion, not Joffrey, so I just drank more. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But the thrill’s in the chase—dodgin’ guards, hagglin’ prices, feelin’ alive. “It’s a cruel world,” Grace’d say, and fuck me, she’s right. Still, I’d do it again—coin’s for spendin’, and I’m no saint. Cheers to that!

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After that little fiasco, I’m feeling pumped. I finish up, and I’m like, “Yeah, I’m the king of the trees!” But then, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and some dude on a bike just wiped out on the sidewalk. I rush over, and he’s like, “I’m fine, I’m fine!” But he’s got this huge scrape on his knee. I’m like, “Dude, you’re not fine. You look like you just lost a fight with a bear.”

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