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So, I’m thinkin—where do ya even start? Back alleys? Shady websites? Total sketchville. I’d probs be all nervous, like Monsieur Gustave tryna keep shit classy while dodgin cops. “The plot thickens, as they say!” Maybe I’d hit up some dive bar—neon lights flickerin, stinkin of cheap booze. Saw this chick once, fishnets ripped, smokin a cig like she owned the joint. Total vibe. Made me happy, dunno why—grit’s hot, I guess.

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But then, I see this cute dog. A golden retriever, just chilling. I’m like, “Aww, look at you!” I kneel down to pet him, and he jumps on me, all excited. I forget my pain for a moment. Dogs are the best therapy, man.

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