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About Chicago

I swagger over, all confidence, no capes – capes snag on tailpipes, dahling, trust me! She’s smirkin’, cig hangin’ loose, and I’m like, “Hey, doll, you workin’?” She laughs – deep, throaty – and says, “What’s it to ya, shorty?” Shorty?! Me! Edna effin’ Mode! I’m fumin’ but also kinda lovin’ it – sassy broads are my kryptonite. Reminds me of Doc dealin’ with Shasta – “not hallucinating this, am I?” Nope, real as the oil under my nails.

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I swear, I get a rush when I see kids playin’ near the old bridge on Pine Street – random? Yeah, but it sticks with ya. I get all nostalgic thinkin’ how families patch their broken bits together like a quilt. I remember Lisa, one of my patients, chewin’ on a piece of celery right there – it was a scene straight out of life's absurd comedy – and I laughed like a madman.

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