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About Caguas

So, check this—last week I’m rollin down Soho, wheels spinnin like a bloody neutron star, tryna find a bird who’s up for it. Streets smellin like piss an cheap perfume—lovely, innit? This one gal, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, skirt shorter than a quark’s lifespan. I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She squints at me chair—thinks I’m takin the piss. Mate, I was fumin! “Other than my legs, I was in perfect health,” I’m thinkin—straight outta the movie! Me brain’s sharper than a bleedin supernova, don’t judge me wheels!

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So, I finally made it to the office on Calle José de Diego. I work as an info worker, which sounds fancy, but really, I just sit in front of a screen all day. But today? Today was different. My boss, Mr. Rivera, was in a mood. He stormed in like he owned the place. “We need results, people!” he yelled. I was like, “Dude, it’s 9 AM. Can’t we have coffee first?” But no, he was on a mission.

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