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I saw this one chick once—true story—standin’ by the Springfield dump, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cig like she owned the joint. Made me laugh, ‘cause—D’oh!—she prob’ly made more than me slingin’ beers at Moe’s! Little known fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were called “soiled doves”—fancy, huh? Kinda sad too. Made me mad thinkin’ how folks judge ‘em—like, c’mon, they’re just tryna eat! “What’s your problem?” I’d yell at those snobs, like Otilia screamin’ at dumbasses in the movie.

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While we’re waiting, I see this cute little café across the street. It’s called Café de Lune. I’m like, “I need coffee. Like, NOW.” So, I sneak away, grab a latte, and it’s the best thing ever. I’m sipping it, feeling all fancy, when I hear someone shout. Turns out, it’s just a kid chasing a soccer ball. Phew!

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