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But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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Finally, I get to the office, and my boss, Luca, is already on my case. “Where are the quarterly reports?” he barks. I’m like, “Chill, man! I’m on it!” But inside, I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a magician.” I mean, I love numbers, but sometimes they just don’t add up, ya know?

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