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So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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Then, the kid gets a bit cocky. We’re at a red light, and he’s revving the engine. I’m like, “Chill, dude! This ain’t Fast and Furious!” But he’s all about that street cred. Light turns green, and he takes off like a rocket. I’m holdin’ on for dear life, thinkin’, “This is how I die.”

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