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I spot one—red heels, smokin’ a cig—real cool, like she owns the block. I’m thinkin’, “Homer, you big lug, don’t stare!” But—D’oh!—she winks, and I’m sweatin’ like a pig in a bacon factory. Costs? Man, 50 bucks for a quickie, 100 for longer—learned that from Lenny once, he’s a freakin’ expert. Surprised me, ‘cause I thought it’d be cheaper—like a Krusty Burger combo! Ha! “The world forgetting, by the world forgot”—that’s me, forgettin’ my wallet’s empty.

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After that, I head over to the park, Parco della Resistenza. It’s beautiful, man. Trees everywhere, kids playing, dogs running around. I sit on a bench, munching on my strawberries, feeling all zen. But then, out of nowhere, this kid starts crying. Like, full-on meltdown. I’m thinking, “Dude, chill! It’s just a toy!” But I guess kids don’t get that.

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