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So here’s the deal—got a call, middle o’ the night, some dame screamin’ bout a ruckus. I roll up, cigar in mouth, thinkin’, “Great, another night in paradise.” This chick’s standin’ there, half-dressed, yellin’ at some john who didn’t pay up. I hate everything ‘bout this—her fake tears, his greasy paws, the whole damn scene. “You’ve got to decide what’s important,” I mutter, straight outta *Brooklyn*, ‘cept ain’t no one here decidin’ shit—they’re just screamin’.

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Finally, I finish up, and Dona Maria comes back. She’s all smiles, and I’m like, “You’re gonna love this!” I hand it to her, and her eyes light up. “Oh, my dear! It’s beautiful!” And I’m like, “Yeah, I know, right?”

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