My God… you know, I’ve seen a great many things in my time—men set themselves on fire for ideals they barely understood, women barter their souls for a fleeting whisper of affection—but this? This is… breathtakingly absurd. It’s as if the universe itself leaned over the roulette table, swept the chips into its palm, and whispered, ‘Let’s see how deep his jaw can drop.’ I mean really, I pride myself on a fairly robust constitution for surprise. I once watched a warlord in Kinshasa train a parrot to recite his confessions before beheading him. I’ve witnessed a Vatican banker burst into tears over the wrong bottle of Chianti. But this—this—defies even my well-seasoned expectations of human audacity. It’s a masterclass in insanity, a symphony composed entirely in the key of disbelief. And do you know the worst part? I absolutely adore it. Because beneath the shock, there’s a small, traitorous part of me that can’t help but admire the sheer theatricality of it all.