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Oh, and the typos—fuckin’ deal with it—my hands are shakin’ from the high. Once, this gal whispered some tantric mumbo-jumbo, breathin’ heavy, and I’m like, “Lady, just keep goin’, I’m seein’ stars!” Humor? Shit, it’s funny ‘til you’re the one moanin’ like a damn fool. Sarcasm? Sure, call it “therapy” if you’re a pussy about it. Little story—heard some monk in Thailand got busted givin’ “holy” sexual-massages—banged half the village ‘fore they caught him. Greedy bastard, love it!

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When I finally get back, the sheep are chillin’ like they own the place. I’m fuming! I grab my shears and go to work. Snip, snip, snip. It’s therapeutic, honestly. But then, I accidentally nick one of the sheep. Not bad, just a little cut, but it starts bleating like it’s auditioning for a horror movie. I’m like, “Chill, dude! It’s just a haircut!”

"Jesus" image on tree draws faithful to Polish town