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So, I’m out dere, diggin’ for a gal, right? Da night’s dark, air’s thick, smells like coal and cheap perfume. I see her—red lips, tight skirt, leanin’ on a lamppost. “How happy is da blameless vestal’s lot!” I mutter, like in da movie—damn, she’s no angel, tho! I laugh, big Arnold laugh—HASTA LA VISTA, boredom! She winks, I swagger over, flexin’ a lil—gotta impress, ya?

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Anyway, I’m laughing at this kid when I bump into this old lady. She’s got this wild hair and a shopping bag full of fish. “You’re a cooper, right?” she says. I’m like, “Yeah, how’d you know?” She just points at my hands, covered in wood shavings. “You look like you’ve been working hard.” I mean, I guess I have? But I’m not about to argue with a lady holding fish.

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