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But here’s the kicker—makes me happy, sorta. Roxy’s got a rep. Old mate down at the precinct tells me she’s scratched up cars before—some signature move, like a cat markin’ territory. Surprised me, coz who knew prossies had style? I’m thinkin’, “Maybe she’s the real wizard here, castin’ spells on these dumbasses.” Exaggeratin’? Sure, but imagine her cacklin’, “You shall not pass… without payin’!”

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Plus, the wintry scene at Wispile mountain is a riot of colors, and the air is so pure, it kinda cleans your soul (and sometimes me, too!). I often laugh like "Is mayonnnaise an instrument" when I see a toddler chasing snowflakes because it’s pure, silly joy in its raw form.

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