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About Carolina

Last week, I’m tailin’ this lead—shady alley, smells like regret. I’m mutterin’, *“Oh, Marge, why this job?”* Suddenly, this gal, she’s standin’ there, all sparkly skirt, eyes like she’s seen too much. I’m thinkin’, *“Her soul’s driftin’ like Boonmee’s jungle spirits!”* I ask her name—Candy, she says. Candy! Ha, like that’s real! I’m all, “Hmm… sugar-coated lies!” Got me chucklin’—these names, always so fake, like Bart’s homework excuses.

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Then, I decided to take a stroll down Calle de la Cruz. The views are insane, man! You can see the mountains, the lush greenery, and all that good stuff. But then, outta nowhere, it started pouring. Like, I’m talking about a monsoon! I was soaked in seconds. I mean, come on, Orocovis! Can’t a guy catch a break?

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