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Here’s the kicker—prostitutes in medieval times? They wore red shoes to stand out! Imagine that, me squintin’ in the dark, lookin’ for red freakin’ shoes! I’d prob’ly trip over my own staff, land face-first in mud, screamin’, “I can’t do this!” Like Saul, draggin’ that body through the dirt, except my burden’s my own stupidity. “Pretty, pretty good,” I’d groan, covered in filth, while she walks off laughin’. I’d be happy, though—relieved it’s over! No STDs, no arrest, just me and my sheep, safe and sound. What a disaster, right? Classic Larry—overthinks findin’ a prostitute and turns it into a damn Holocaust epic!

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I grab a cornetto from this little bakery on the corner of Via Garibaldi. Best decision ever! Flaky, sweet, and just the right amount of cream. I’m in heaven. But then, I see this dude trying to haggle over a bunch of tomatoes. Like, bro, it’s not that serious! They’re just tomatoes!

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