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Last week, some git in cellblock C bragged he got one—said it “freed his soul.” Bollocks! Freed his wallet, more like—cost him a pack of smokes to bribe the guard. Made me proper mad—why ain’t *I* gettin’ that deal? But then, I’m thinkin’, “Loki, you’re above this,”—burdened with glorious purpose, not grovelin’ for a rubdown. Still, I was chuffed hearin’ it—imaginin’ him squirming, all awkward. “You think you’re in charge?” I’d say, like in *Toni Erdmann*, watchin’ him melt under some lass’s thumbs.

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Finally, I make it to my desk. I’m diving into some reports about the local economy. Hoeoer’s been buzzing lately. New businesses popping up everywhere. I mean, have you seen the new taco joint on Oak St.? It’s lit! But then, I get this email from my boss. He wants me to present at the city council meeting. Like, what? I’m not ready for that!

Hoeper -- Schottenbauer