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So, I’m out there, hulkin’ up, scopin’ the scene, right? Downtown’s buzzin’, neon lights flashin’ like some punk’s tryna flex on me. I’m thinkin’, “Brother, where’s the real action at?” Then bam — this chick’s struttin’ up, heels clackin’, skirt tighter than a headlock. I’m like, “Woah, dude, she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of that “Oldboy” line, “Laugh and the world laughs with you,” but ain’t nobody laughin’ here, just hustlin’.

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Then, outta nowhere, I see this old lady, Mrs. Jenkins, who lives on Merrow Lane. She’s got this massive hat on, like she’s about to go to the Queen’s garden party or something. She’s yelling at a pigeon! I mean, who yells at pigeons? But she’s like, “Get outta my garden, you feathered fiend!” I couldn’t help but chuckle.

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