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Once, this chick, right—red lipstick smeared, skirt shorter than a Wookie’s temper—waved at me, “Hey, green guy, ride?” Laughed, I did, “A Jedi craves not these things!” But curious, I was—drove slow, peeked. She yelled, “20 creds, best night ever!” Tempted? Nah, but funny as hell, it was. “You think you’re some kind of Jedi?”—Cronenberg line, popped in my head. Violence, sex, all tangled up, y’know?

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I get there, and it’s packed. Like, seriously, who knew Rishon-LeTsiyyon could be this lively? Kids running around, people chilling, and the smell of shwarma in the air. I’m drooling just thinking about it. But then, outta nowhere, this kid trips and spills his ice cream all over my shoes. Ugh! I was like, “Bro, you just ruined my kicks!” But he just laughed and ran off. Kids, man.