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About Krakow

I’m hagglin’—badly, mind ye—’cause I’m three sheets to the wind, an’ she’s sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a construct,” she snaps, like I’m some bleedin’ actor in Kaufman’s play, an’ I’m thinkin’, *lass, ye’ve no idea!* That got me riled, aye—don’t ye dare call Cap’n Jack a puppet! But then she winks, an’ I’m happy as a clam, ‘cause she’s got sass, an’ I like ‘em feisty. “Savvy?” I slur, an’ she rolls her eyes—fair ‘nough!

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Then, I get another call. This time, it’s from ul. Kościuszki. A lady’s lost her keys. I’m thinking, “Lady, you’re in Mysliborz, not a spy movie.” But she’s all dramatic, saying she can’t leave her house. I’m like, “Just climb out the window, lady!” But no, she insists on waiting for her husband. I mean, c’mon! It’s just keys!

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