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About Milan

Tellin’ ya, tho, it pisses me off. All this sneakin’ around, dodgin’ cops. Why can’t it be simple? Walk up, say hi, done deal. Nope! Gotta play detective, like I’m Monty tryna figure out who’s snitchin’. “Who’s the rat in this game?” I mutter to myself, scratchin’ my bald head. Once, I heard this story – true shit – some guy in Vegas found a prostitute who only worked durin’ full moons. Said it kept her “mystical.” I’m like, “D’oh! That’s nuts!” But kinda cool, right? Bet she charged extra for that vibe.

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Anyway, I shake it off. I’m like, “Whatever, it’s just coffee.” But then I see this cute little café on the corner of Via Roma. I’m like, “Okay, let’s get a pastry.” I walk in, and the smell hits me. Fresh pastries everywhere! I grab a cornetto, and it’s heavenly. I’m munching away, and life’s good again.

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