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About Bari

Prozzies got stories, man. There’s this tale from Amsterdam—true shit—where a girl saved up her cash, bought a boat, and sailed off. Fuckin’ badass! I’d toast her with a nice red, sayin’, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” just to freak out the normies nearby. Makes me wonder—what’d Theo do if he met her? Prob’ly just stare, all moody.

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I’m like, “Lady, chill. I got this.” But she’s not having it. She’s pacing, talking about how it’s a family heirloom. I’m thinking, “Lady, it’s not like I can resurrect it.” But I try to be nice. I take a look, and boom! It’s just a dead battery. I replace it, and she’s all smiles. I’m like, “See? Easy peasy.” But then she starts crying. Like, full-on tears. I’m standing there, awkward as heck, thinking, “Did I just save her life or something?”

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