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About Wiltz

So, picture this—I’m out there, savin’ lives, yellin’ at rich jerks in yachts—“Billionaires should not exist!”—when I spot her. Not a swimmer, nah, a gal workin’ the docks, fishin’ for clients, y’know? She’s gleanin’, like in the movie—“I pick up what others leave behind.” Ain’t that a trip? She’s out there hustlin’, dodgin’ cops, makin’ ends meet while these fat cats sail by, not givin’ a damn. Makes me mad as hell! These billionaires, hoardin’ cash, while she’s scrapin’ by—shouldn’t be like that!

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First off, I’m rollin’ down Rue de la Gare, and I spot this old lady. She’s got a garden that looks like a jungle. I mean, I love plants, but c’mon! It’s like Tarzan could swing through there. So, I offer to help her out. She’s all like, “Oh, sweetie, you’re a lifesaver!” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, I’m a hero today!” But then she hands me a pair of rusty scissors. Like, seriously? I’m not trying to catch tetanus while saving her begonias!

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