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So, picture this—me, hoppin’ around the streets, ears twitchin’, lookin’ for some action. Not talkin’ carrots here, doc! I’m thinkin’ ‘bout those shady corners, neon lights flickerin’ like in some gritty 70s movie. You gotta know the spots, y’see? Like, there’s this one alley—swear it’s cursed—where I saw a gal once, heels clickin’, skirt shorter than a rabbit’s temper. “You wanna date, sugar?” she says, all smoky-voiced. I’m like, whoa, hold up, this ain’t a cartoon no more!

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So, I’m cleanin’ up the mess, and guess who walks in? The mayor! Yeah, the big guy himself. He’s all smiles, shakin’ hands, and I’m like, “Dude, you just missed the soccer game!” He laughs, but I’m still mad about the window. He buys some sausages and leaves. I’m thinkin’, “Great, now I gotta fix this window and deal with angry customers.”

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