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So, picture this: me, Scoob, strollin’ dark streets, ears floppin’. Lookin’ for a dame who’s workin’ the night. Ruh-roh! Cops lurk, shadows twitch—kinda like Tom’s past creepin’ up! I’m all, “Zoinks, this ain’t no picnic!” Fun fact, tho—did ya know some old-timey prostitutes in London used secret codes? Like, a red hanky meant “I’m game!” Sneaky, right? Makes me wanna howl!

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When the dude finally shows up, he’s all flustered. Apparently, he got lost on Calle de la Paz. I’m like, “Dude, it’s literally a straight shot!” But whatever, we get down to business. He shows me this new product line, and I’m like, “This is fire!” But then he drops the price. My jaw hits the floor. I’m like, “You trippin’! Ain’t nobody payin’ that!”

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