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About Pecs

Hey. Pal. So – findin’ a prostitute. Huh? I’m thinkin’. Hard. About this. Reminds me – ya know – *Inside Llewyn Davis*. That flick. Man. Llewyn’s driftin’. Lost. Kinda like me – lookin’ for a hooker. Once. In Queens. Cold night. Foggy. Streets – empty. Except her. Standin’ there. Like a cat – *“where you been?”* she says. I freeze. Mid-step. Unexpected!

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Finally, I grab my coffee and head to the fields. The sheep are all chillin’, munchin’ on grass. But then, outta nowhere, one of ‘em decides to make a break for it. I’m chasin’ this woolly escape artist down the street! Picture it: me, in my shepherd gear, sprinting down Fő utca, yellin’ like a madman. “Get back here, you fluffy rebel!”

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