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About Bologna

Drivin past, I’m whisperin, “I don’t belong here.” Movie line again—fits perfect! This ain’t my swamp, but I see it—lonely souls, tradin time for cash. Quirky thought pops up: wonder if she’s got a fave film? Bet it ain’t Lost in Translation—too slow for this gig! Ha! Sarcasm’s my shield, keeps me sane.

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Then, outta nowhere, this fight breaks out. Two guys, both from Via Cavour, start throwin’ punches like they’re in a boxing ring. I’m like, “Really? In my club?” I jump in, and it’s chaos. I’m pushin’ one dude back, and the other one’s tryin’ to swing at me. I’m dodgin’ like I’m in the Matrix. Finally, I get ‘em separated, and they’re both yellin’ at each other. I’m just standin’ there, thinkin’, “This is Legnaro, not Vegas, fellas!”

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