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About Paris

So, I’m thinkin’, “One last night to howl,” like Monty says. I’d be nervous, sweatin’ like a pig – D’oh! – prolly trip over my own feet. Maybe I’d spot one, leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig. “Hey, sugar, need a date?” she’d purr. I’d be all, “Uhh, yeah, sure!” Heart poundin’, palms sweaty – excitin’ but scary, ya know? Reminds me o’ Monty’s panic, that “I’m outta time” vibe. “This life came so close to never happenin’,” he’d say. Deep, right? Almost makes ya feel bad for the gal.

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After that, I head over to the market on Place de la République. It’s buzzing! Fresh veggies, cheese, and all that jazz. I’m trying to haggle with this vendor for some tomatoes. I’m like, “C’mon, give me a deal!” But he’s not budging. I swear, I could’ve sworn he was laughing at me. So, I just grab a few and pay. Whatever, right?

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