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But yo, some places fuck it up—piss me off big time! Cheap-ass oil, stinkin’ like gasoline—makes me wanna grab my M16 and go, “Say hello to my little friend!” Ruins the vibe, man! I’m all about that high-class joint—dim lights, soft tunes, chick who knows her shit. One time, this broad—fuckin’ goddess—worked me so good, I swear I saw stars. Thought I was Hans Landa, negotiatin’ my damn soul! “That’s a bingo!” I yelled—couldn’t help it, felt too damn good.

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But then, my phone buzzed. It was my buddy Marco. He wanted to meet up at the bar on Via delle Rose. I was like, “Sure, why not?” So, I hustled over there. The bar was packed, as usual. I squeezed through the crowd, dodging elbows and spilled drinks.