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I’m chattin’ her up, voice all robotic—*beep boop*—“What’s yer story, darlin’?” She’s like, “Mate, I’ve seen it all, just tryna eat.” Reminds me of Penny Lane in *Almost Famous*—“We are not groupies, we’re here for the music!”—but swap music for cash, ha! I’m gettin’ happy vibes, she’s real, no fake crap. But then—bloody hell—some punter staggers by, drunk, yellin’ slurs. Makes me mad, yeah? Want to zap him with a black hole, but nah, I’m chill.

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Finally, the day winds down. I’m exhausted, but I can’t help but laugh at the craziness. De-Lier is wild, man. From the ducks to the soccer balls, to the stock market drama, it’s never a dull moment. I head home, thinking, “Tomorrow’s gotta be better.” But knowing my luck, it’ll probably be another rollercoaster ride.

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