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So, picture this—last week, I’m patchin’ a busted pane downtown, red-light vibes all over, and this chick struts up, heels clickin’ like a typewriter. “Need a date, hon?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like, lady, I’m elbow-deep in caulk, not desperation! Made me laugh, tho—balls on her, hittin’ on a sweaty dude with a putty knife. Don’t pee on my leg, sweetheart, I ain’t that lonely! Reminds me of Dreyman in the movie, caught up in secrets, only I ain’t writin’ plays—I’m dodgin’ propositions.

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Then, boom! I smell something. Like, really smell it. It’s this fresh bakery scent wafting from the Cashmere Bakery. I’m like, “Dude, I need that in my life.” So, I pop in, grab a pie. Best decision ever. I mean, who doesn’t love a good meat pie?

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