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But then—THEN—I get pissed, ‘cause society’s all, “Oh, how dare they!” Like, chill, Karen, they’re out here survivin’. Didja know, back in the day, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret spy rings durin’ the war? Freakin’ wild! Hustlin’ johns *and* the Nazis—talk about multi-taskin’. I’m sittin’ here imaginin’ this chick from *Ten* doin’ that, smirkin’ at some Gestapo dude while pocketin’ his cash. “You’re a fool,” she’d say, straight outta the movie, and I’d lose it laughin’.

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Then, outta nowhere, this guy walks in. He’s wearing a neon green jacket. Like, who does that? He starts yelling about how he’s the next big thing. I’m just standing there, rolling my eyes. “Bro, you’re in Jarocin, not New York.” But he’s all about that “I’m gonna make it big” life. I mean, good for him, but c’mon, man.

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