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D’oh! So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, right? Like, where do ya even start? Mmm… donuts. I’m picturin’ it now—me, stumblin’ round Springfield, lookin’ for some action, prolly trippin’ over my own feet. Reminds me of *Before Sunset*, ya know? That flick where Jesse’s all, “I keep thinkin’ bout ya,” chasin’ love in Paris. But me? I ain’t chasin’ no deep romance—just a quick “hey, how’s it hangin’?” with some gal who’s seen more streets than a freakin’ map.

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First stop, I hit up the Mercato Albinelli. It’s this dope market, full of fresh stuff. I’m talkin’ fruits, cheeses, meats—everything! I’m wandering around, and I see this guy selling prosciutto. I’m like, “Dude, gimme a slice!” He hands me this massive piece, and I’m in heaven. But then, I drop it! Ugh, the horror! I’m standing there, staring at my fallen treasure like it’s a crime scene.

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