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Never went thru with it, tho—chickened out, big time! Drove off, yellin’, “Marge’d skin me alive!” Candy waved, shoutin’, “Come back, ya goof!” Laughed ‘til I cried—me, a tractor drivin’ loser, chasin’ wild tales. Next day, plowin’ again, I’m hummin’, “Stories we tell ourselves”—damn good flick, damn weird night! What ya think, bud? Crazy, huh? D’oh!

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And then there’s the quirky cafes off Loomis Street. They’re not fancy, but damn, they serve coffee as raw as the truth. I have this one regular, the best damn espresso, too! Life’s better with every messy sip. I swear, sometimes I laugh thinking of all the bizarre characters that pass through my massage table, each with their own wild story—just like that flick Under the Skin, haunting yet alluring.

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