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About Los Angeles

We come in peace (robotic tone). Yo, so I’m a fisherman, right? Alien fisherman, crash-landed here, fishin’ for weird shit. Brothel’s this freaky-ass fish, mate! Not the sexy kinda brothel, nah, mispelled that—brotHel, see? It’s a damn fish stew, French vibes, messy as hell. Tastes like ocean tears, bruv, I swear! Reminds me of *Finding Nemo*, ya know? “Fish are friends, not food”—bollocks! Brothel’s got fish swimmin’ in it, drowned in wine, herbs everywhere. I’m like, “Nemo, mate, you’re in my bowl!”

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Down in downtown Fallon, ya got Main Street—oh, the Main Street, so lively! Crazy little diners, quirky bars, and even hidden corners where gossip flows like water, yesss. Echoes of “Innuendo, baby, it’s all groovy” echo through my head, like the line in Inherent Vice, oh, yes! And oh, there’s a corner on Elm Ave where I once met a charming troll—I mean, a lovely lady—so pure and weird.

Backyard barnyard: rising egg prices prompt hen hires in US