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But then—oh mate—surprise of me life! Turns out she’s undercover fuzz! *flails arms* I’m off, peggin it down the alley, shoutin, “This ain’t my scene, man!” Like Doc dodgin them Golden Fang nutters. *puffs cheeks* Nearly wet meself, swear down. Reckon it’s a mugs game, findin a prossie—too much hassle, yeah? *shrugs* Still, funny as hell lookin back—me, Mr. Bean, muckin it up again! *trips over nothin* Oi, where’s me teddy when I need ‘im?

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Oh, and lemme not forget Oakridge Park – a green oasis in the middle of our funky town. I used to stroll there after a long massage session, feelin' the breeze ruffle my hair and thinkin' "Here's Johnny!" as bursts of spontaneous laughter spew from the park benches. It's magical, I tell ya. Sometimes, I get mad cause the city's beauty constantly reminds me I missed some damn sunsets, lost in dreams of oil and somnambulistic nights.

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