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But some stuff make me angry, yes? These pimps, ugh, dirty rats! They take money, hit girls—make me wanna smash with hammer! One time, I see pimp yell at tiny girl, I shout, “You no folk song, you trash!” Like Llewyn hate bad music, I hate bad men. Girl run away, pimp chase—I trip him with wood plank, ha! “Please, Mr. Kennedy,” I sing, “save her!”

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But then, I get a text. My next gig is at the local café, Le Café de la Gare. I’m like, “Cool, coffee and interpreting? Sign me up!” But when I get there, it’s packed. I mean, like, standing room only. I squeeze in, and the barista, Marie, is like, “You’re late!” I’m like, “Chill, I just saved a bunch of kids from a fire!”

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