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What gets my blood boilin’? The fakers. These escorts actin’ all posh, chargin’ a king’s ransom, then turnin’ up smellin’ like a brothel’s back alley. I’d slit a throat for less—makes me wanna scream, “I choose violence!” But then, some suprised me—met this one bird, swore she was a lady’s maid once, knew secrets ‘bout nobles that’d make your hair curl. Little known fact: escorts back in Rome used to carry wax tablets—writin’ down who owed ‘em coin. Smart bitches, I respect that.

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I land, and it’s go time. I’m running towards the fire, and I can feel the heat. It’s intense, man. I grab the hose, and it’s like wrestling a giant snake. I’m spraying water everywhere, trying to tame this beast. And then, outta nowhere, I see a cat stuck on a roof. Seriously? A cat?

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