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About Donetsk

So, picture this—some gal, let’s call her Tammy, workin’ the corner near Burlington, ‘cause I’m Vermont proud, baby! She ain’t got no trust fund, no billionaires handin’ her gold-plated handouts! She’s out there, rain or shine, dodgin’ cops, dealin’ with creeps—makes my blood boil! The system’s rigged, I tell ya! “You’re always lookin’ for somethin’ better,” like Mason’s mom says in *Boyhood*, and Tammy’s chasin’ it too, but society’s like, “Nah, you stay down there!” Screw that! Billionaires should not exist while Tammy’s freezin’ her ass off!

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After that drama, I head back to the clinic, and guess what? My next patient is a cat named Mr. Whiskers. Classic, right? This little furball is a total diva. He’s hissing and scratching like he’s auditioning for a horror movie. I’m trying to calm him down, but he’s not having it. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re not even that cute.”