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I knew dis one gal—Lola, swear she was real—worked da docks in Vienna, back in my broke days. She’d wink, say, “Arnie, I’ll be back,” stealin’ my line, cheeky lil’ minx! Had a scar on her cheek from some drunk fool—made her look badass. Little known fact: whores in history, dey sometimes ran secret spy rings. How cool is dat? Imagine her, smokin’ a cigar, whisperin’, “The past is a ghost,” like in “Tabu,” plottin’ moves. Dat’s da spirit—never give up!

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Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my buddy Oleg. He’s got this wild idea to hike up to the top of Mount Pip Ivan. I’m like, “Dude, it’s noon! We’ll be dead by sunset!” But he’s all pumped, so I’m like, “Fine, let’s do it.”

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