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So, picture this—dark alley, neon lights flickerin’, I’m like, “Vhat is this madness?” Smell o’ stale beer, fishy vibes—ugh, makes me wanna puke, so angry! Then, “Lightbulb!”—I remember this ol’ story, little known, yeah? Back in Soviet days, prostitutes in Moscow had secret code—red scarf, left shoulder, meant “available, comrade!” Sneaky, huh? I’m thinkin’, “Do they still do that?” Nah, probly not, but I’m checkin’ shoulders anyway—nuthin’. Disappointin’, but I laugh, “Hah! Gru, you dumb genius!”

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So I’m diggin’ in, pullin’ weeds, and tryin’ to save these poor flowers. And then, outta nowhere, her cat, Whiskers, decides to join the party. This little furball jumps right into my wheelbarrow! I’m like, “Dude, this ain’t a cat taxi!” But Whiskers just stares at me like, “What’s your problem?”

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