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Oh, and the typos? Screw it—im typin fast, deal wth it. This gig’s messy, chaotic, like defusin’ a bomb blind. “The closer you are, the deader you get,” Bigelow’d whisper, and damn, that’s the prostitute life—risky as fuck. Ever hear ‘bout that Vegas gal who conned a mobster outta 50 grand? Ballsy! He never saw it comin’, too busy droolin’. Greed is good, man—she owned him.

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So, I keep walkin’, and I hit up the local market on Rue de la Liberté. Man, the vibe there is electric! Fresh veggies, flowers, and the smell of baked goods. I’m in heaven. I grab some tomatoes, and this vendor starts chattin’ me up. He’s like, “You know, these tomatoes are the best in Strassen!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a gardener. I know good tomatoes.” He just laughs, and I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, buddy, I’m the tomato whisperer.”

Michael Strassen has ‘a great deal to say’