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About Malaga

I’d probly overvolt the whole damn place for kicks—exaggeratin’, sure, but imagine the sparks! Me, sittin’ there with my cane, smirkin’, “Oops, my bad, enjoy the dark.” Sarcasm’s my shield, mate—keeps the stupidity at bay. You ever think how much wiring a joint like that’d take? Miles of it, all for grunts and groans. Waste of good tech, if ya ask me. Still, beats fixin’ a hospital PA system—least the brothel’s honest about bein’ a circus. “Goodbye to language,” huh? More like goodbye to sanity—mine’s half gone typin’ this crap for ya.