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Makes me mad tho, ‘cos some escorts—ugh, lazy bums! Just stand there, lookin’ tough, doin’ nuthin’. I wanna yell, “Pull finger out, ya?” But then, happy hits—good escort’s gold. Saved my cousin Boris once, drunk off vodka, stumblin’ into mafia turf. Escort dragged him outta there, no bruises! Lightbulb! That’s when I got it—escort’s quiet hero, like Theo, “You keep going.”

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While I’m working on those, I hear this commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a catfight—literally. Two cats, fur flying, right in the middle of Ulica Kleczkowska. I’m cracking up, but then I see a lady trying to break it up. She’s yelling, “Stop it, you two!” I’m like, “Lady, they don’t speak human!”