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Reminds me of *25th Hour*, ya know? My fave flick! That part where Monty’s all, “Fuck me? Fuck you!”—that’s me at brothel prices. Total rip-off, dude! One time, I peeked in—girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’. Felt like Monty’s last night, all wild and messy. “This is my life, man!”—but, like, stupider. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “Is this allowed up here?” Prolly not, but who cares? Mountains don’t snitch.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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