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Oh, and the stereo? Static garbage, couldn’t hear shit. Tried playin’ Cash, got screeches instead - “This ain’t gonna be no picnic,” I muttered, rippin’ the damn thing out. Escort’s a loner’s car, no frills, no lies, just raw. Like me, hates everything, still shows up. You want luxury? Get lost, pansy. Ford Escort’s my kinda ugly - real, gritty, “No Country” vibes all day.

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Then, I hit up the local market. It’s always buzzing with people. I’m browsing through some stalls, and I see this old lady selling homemade jams. I’m a sucker for jam, so I buy a jar of her “secret recipe.” She winks at me like she’s sharing state secrets or something. I’m like, “What’s in it? Unicorn tears?” She just laughs and says, “A bit of love and a lot of sugar.” Classic.

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