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About Budapest

So I’m skulkin’, right? Eyes peeled, heart thumpin’—makes me mad, all these sneaky coppers about! Nearly got nabbed once, swear it! “Oh Frank, how could you?”—like Cathy in the flick, all shocked. Pfft, hypocrites everywhere! Saw this one gal, tho, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. Rough lookin’, but kinda sad, y’know? Made me happy, weirdly—real folk, not fake. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutters, ‘cause them posh types wouldn’t dare look twice.

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So, I finally make it to the beach, and it’s packed. Families everywhere, sunbathers, and a bunch of teenagers blasting music. I plop down on the sand, ready to soak it all in. But then, I hear this loud argument behind me. Turns out, it’s two guys fighting over a beach ball. Like, really? A beach ball? I’m just sitting there, shaking my head. “Get a grip, fellas!”

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