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About Turin

I’m chattin’ her up, voice all robotic—*beep boop*—“What’s yer story, darlin’?” She’s like, “Mate, I’ve seen it all, just tryna eat.” Reminds me of Penny Lane in *Almost Famous*—“We are not groupies, we’re here for the music!”—but swap music for cash, ha! I’m gettin’ happy vibes, she’s real, no fake crap. But then—bloody hell—some punter staggers by, drunk, yellin’ slurs. Makes me mad, yeah? Want to zap him with a black hole, but nah, I’m chill.

A visit to the City

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First stop, I hit up the old market on Piazza della Repubblica. You know, the one where the old ladies sell their homemade pasta? Yeah, that place. I’m just tryin’ to grab some breakfast, right? But then I see this massive rat scurryin’ under the stalls. I mean, this thing was the size of a small dog! I’m like, “Not today, buddy!” So I whip out my trusty trap.

Yo, Mr. President: A grandparent's love is bona fide