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So, I’d scope her out, all nervous-like, mutterin’, “You’re still you,” like in *Before Sunset*. Total sap move, but it’d slip out—Homer’s heart’s big, ya know? She’d prolly laugh, say, “Twenty bucks, tubby.” Fair. I’d be sweatin’, thinkin’ bout Marge catchin’ me—ooh, that’d be a paddlin’! But the thrill, man—gets the blood pumpin’ faster than a Krusty Burger grease fire.

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Ya gotta wander down Sixth Ave sometimes. It’s a short walk, but you'll see life in splinters – laughter, frustration, hope. There’s a poorly lit diner around 4th Street that serves the best greasy grub. I hit it up on my breaks sometimes and think, “Man, this is life!” And, heck, sometimes I even hum a little WALL-E tune – whistlin’ away time.

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