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Picture this, I’m cruisin’ the streets, lookin’ for a hooker to prove my point, right? I’d be all, “What’s your deal, lady? Why this job?” Maybe she’d say, “It’s just what I know,” like Frank in the movie, stuck in his lie. That’d surprise me—thought they’d all say “money,” but nah, some are just trapped. Kinda sad, huh? But don’t tell me to feel bad, I’m Eric freakin’ Cartman, I don’t cry for nobody!

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Next up, a lady rushes in with a parrot. Yes, a parrot! She’s freaking out, saying it won’t stop squawking. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a parrot. That’s kinda their thing.” But she’s convinced it’s sick. I check it out, and it’s just being a diva. I tell her, “It’s fine. Just needs some attention.” She looks at me like I just cured cancer. I’m like, “Nah, just a regular Tuesday in Orvieto.”

Luca Signorelli’s Apocalyptic Frescoes in Orvieto