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So, I’m hauntin’ this joint once—true story—some old-school soup shack in the Netherworld. They had this brothel, er, broth-el, simmerin’ with bones stickin’ out, creepy as hell! Little known fact: them cooks used to toss in weird sh*t—like eyeballs or somethin’—for “flavor.” Made me wanna puke, but damn, it smelled good! Got me all happy, dancin’ around like a freak—then bam, some jerk spills it! Pissed me off so bad I nearly possessed the pot. “Mine! Mine! Mine!” I’m screamin’, like them seagulls in Finding Nemo, ya feel me?

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After that little fiasco, I decide to head to the market on Yabluneva Street. I need some fresh veggies for dinner. I’m browsing through the stalls, and I spot the juiciest tomatoes. I’m talking about the kind that makes your mouth water. I grab a few, and the vendor starts chatting me up. He’s telling me about his garden, and I’m just nodding along, trying to keep my cool.

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