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But lemme flex some real talk—sometimes it pisses me off. You get these posers, fakin’ pics, ghostin’ ya after a chat. Makes me wanna suplex ‘em through a table, brother! Like, “You think life ends here?!”—straight outta the movie, that raw anger! Then, bam, you hit gold—a real connection. Had this one chick, met her on Bumble, she was all fire, brother, had me grinnin’ like I just pinned Andre the Giant! We clicked, no BS, just pure heat.

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Inside, it’s all echoey and weird. I’m checking the equipment, and suddenly, I hear this loud crash. My heart’s racing! I whip around, and it’s just a rock falling. Phew! But then I see a couple of miners arguing. Like, really arguing. I’m talkin’ fists up, voices raised. I step in, and they look at me like I’m the bad guy. “What’s the deal, fellas?” I ask. Turns out, one of ‘em borrowed the other’s pickaxe without asking. Seriously? Over a pickaxe?

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