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Lemme tell ya, I saw this hooker once—swear she had eyes like Marge’s after I forget our anniversary. D’oh! Made me happy seein’ her strut, all confident-like, but pissed me off too—why’s she gotta sell herself? World’s screwed up, man. “Mmm… donuts.” Thinkin’ ‘bout it, she prob’ly makes more dough than me at the plant—ha! Little known fact: back in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out. Wild, huh? Bet they’d look hot with a donut in hand.

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So, I’m at the stables on Rua da Igreja, right? Just me and my trusty steed, Flash. He’s a bit of a diva, but I love that horse. Anyway, I’m brushin’ him down, and outta nowhere, this kid runs in, all panicked. “Dude, the race is in trouble!” he yells. I’m like, “What do you mean trouble?” Turns out, the track at the Campo de Jogos is flooded. Like, seriously? It’s not even raining! Just a freakin’ mess.

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