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Here’s a story—true as hell. Buddy of mine, Tommy, called his sister a whore once—big mistake. She clocked him with a frying pan! Swear to God—blood everywhere, laughin’ through the ER. “Bin Laden’s dead,” I told him, quotin’ the flick, “and you’re next, pal!” Hilarious, but damn—word’s got power. Surprised me how quick it flipped—fun to fury.

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When I get to the station, it’s chaos. People are lookin’ around, and I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” I start callin’ out the dog’s name, “Bobby! Bobby!” But all I get is weird looks from folks. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m the crazy huntsman yellin’ for a dog. No biggie.” Finally, after what feels like forever, I spot this little furball under a bench. I’m like, “Bobby, you little rascal!” I grab him, and my cousin is so relieved. He’s like, “Thanks, man! I owe you one.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, you owe me a beer, bro.”

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