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About Auckland

But real talk—sometimes it’s awkward as heck. You’re there, butt up, tryin’ not to giggle or fart—lordy, the struggle! How’s that workin’ for ya, huh? I reckon it’s a gamble—good hands, you’re golden; bad ones, you’re countin’ ceiling tiles. Oh, and don’t get me started on the cost—$100 for an hour? Sheesh, I could buy a dang tractor for that! Exaggeratin’, sure, but it stings.

Reports for Springlands School

I’m standing there, fuming. I could’ve been fixing Dave’s shoes! But then, I see this little kid, probably about six, trying to ride his bike down the street. He’s wobbling all over the place, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna eat dirt!” And then, bam! He falls right in front of me. I rush over, help him up, and he’s all smiles. “Thanks, mister!” And just like that, my mood lifts. Kids, man. They’re like little bundles of joy.

Enshrouded: The Hollow Hall (Springlands)