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Last time I tried it, this bird—properlly fit—starts kneadin’ me like dough. I’m thinkin’, “Christ, I’ve dodged bullets for less!” Made me happy as a pig in muck, tho—tension gone, floatin’ like I’m on a cloud. But then—bloody hell—she cranks my leg up like she’s auditionin’ for a kung-fu flick. Surprised me so bad I nearly yelped—007 don’t yelp, mind ya. Had me ragin’ for a sec, like, “I’m gonna abandon my boy!”—straight outta the movie, all dramatic. But nah, she knew her stuff—cracked me open like a safe, released shit I’d been carryin’ since MI6 bootcamp.

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So, I’m strolling down Via Roma, right? Just vibin’ to my tunes, when BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, c’mon, dude! I’m just tryna live my best life here. I swear that bird was aiming for me. I mean, who knew pigeons had such a vendetta?

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