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Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? I’m stuck here ramblin’ bout whores—fish, ya know, not the other kind! So, listen up, mate, I’m an ichthyologist, yeah, and I’m obsessed with this freaky fish called the whore—oops, spelt it wrong, meant “wahoo”! Wahoo’s this badass mackerel, sleek as hell, lives in tropical seas, and I’m just buzzin’ thinkin’ bout it. Looks like somethin’ outta “Werckmeister Harmonies”—you seen that flick? Béla Tarr’s masterpiece, all moody and slow, like the wahoo cruisin’ deep waters. “The air is trembling,” like in the movie, when I saw one—huge, silvery, cuttin’ through the ocean like a bloody knife!

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After that, I needed a breather. So, I strolled down to Lake Te Koutu. It’s so pretty there, man. The water was glistening, and I thought, “This is the life.” I sat on a bench, just soaking it all in. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by with a frisbee and—WHAM!—hits me right in the face. I swear, I saw stars. I was like, “Is this a sign? Am I cursed today?”

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