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About Marseille

I’m chattin’ her up—price, rules, whatever. She’s cool, but I’m pissed—hate the hagglin’. “What am I, a fuckin’ flea market?” I think. Still, she’s got sass—calls me “Mr. Fancy Pants.” Cheeky bitch! Makes me grin tho—happy as a pig in shit. Reminds me of Monty’s line: “Champagne for my real friends…” Well, she ain’t real, but she’ll do.

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So, I lock up and head to Parc de la Mairie. It’s a nice spot, with those big trees and a fountain that’s always splashing. I get there, and Max is standing there with a bunch of people. They’re all looking at this giant inflatable unicorn. I’m like, “What the heck?” Turns out, it’s for some charity event.

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