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About Gyor

Ok, so—escort’s this Ford beast, yeah? Not the boring pickup crap—nah, the *Escort*—80s icon, baby! Little known fact: raced it in rallies! Mud flyin’, tires screamin’—total badass. Saw one once, cherry red, purrin’—made me wanna jump in, peel out! Friend o’ mine had one—swears it’s cursed. Broke down every damn Tuesday—pissed me off! “Why ya keep this junk?” I’d yell. He’d just laugh—crazy bastard.

Finally, I get to the meeting. It’s with this client, an older lady named Erzsébet. She’s sweet but a bit scatterbrained. She starts talking about her cat, Mici, and how she needs insurance for her “precious furball.” I’m like, “Lady, I get it, but we gotta talk about your house too!” But she just keeps going on about Mici’s “special diet.” I mean, who knew cats could be so high-maintenance?