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About Naples

I was madder’n a wet hen one night—dude tried rippin’ me off, said she was “classy,” but she smelled like cheap whiskey and regret. Reminded me of Christian chasin’ that dream—ya think it’s all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but nope! Sometimes it’s just a hustle, y’all. I hollered, “Boy, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Made me wanna spit nails, I swear. But then—Lordy!—I found this one gal, sweet as pecan pie, and I was happier’n a pig in mud. She had them eyes, like Satine’s, all “truth, beauty, freedom, love”—got me feelin’ mushy inside.

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After that chaos, I decide to stroll down to the beach. The sun’s shinin’, waves crashin’, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, I see this group of tourists tryin’ to take a selfie. They’re all crowded around, and one dude’s holdin’ a gelato like it’s a trophy. He slips, and the gelato goes flyin’! It lands right on this poor lady’s sunhat. I can’t even!

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