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I spot one—red hair, leather skirt, smokin’ a cig like she owns the joint. I roll up, all awkward, mutterin’, “Hey, uh, how’s it goin’?” She smirks, says, “50 bucks, grandpa.” I’m laughin’—grandpa?!—but damn, she’s got sass, I’m impressed! Reminds me of Imperator Furiosa, fierce as hell, takin’ no shit. I’m thinkin’, “What a day, what a lovely day!” ‘cause she’s got that spark, ya feel me? But I’m pissed too—why’s she gotta hustle while billionaires yacht it up? Infuriates me!

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So, I’m an ichthyologist, right? Fish nerd, basically. I was all set to check out the local ponds. You know, do some fishy stuff. But first, I had to grab a coffee from that little café on Collier Row Road. The one with the weird name—“The Fishy Brew.” I mean, c’mon, who names a café that? But their lattes? To die for.

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