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So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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After the rain, I’m feeling a bit peckish again. I swing by the chippy on Maghull Lane. Best chips in town, no contest. I order a portion, and while I’m waiting, I overhear this couple arguing. It’s like a scene from a soap opera. “You never listen!” “Well, you never stop talking!” I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s hard.

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