Of course! Here's the rewrite of the text in Desciclopédia's humorous and satirical style:
Chapter Two: The Trail of the Straw Thief (or: The Saga of the Lazy Maned Wolf)
The winter moon is surrounded by an extraordinary darkness, which is basically the logical opposite of that mischievous sun that ruins your hungover vision. In this darkness, the strays all over the street bark at a star, probably mistaking it for an Amazon drone or a UFO from Joe the Caixote.
Angelina Jolie Carter, "Winter's Smile (and Other Expressions of Boredom)"
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The Rage is in you. Not the kind of traffic, worse. It's an internal itch, a feeling like you're wearing a bearskin coat underneath, except the bear is still alive, dandruffed, and writhing. You just want to dig in your nails (which, let's face it, are more like claws) and scratch yourself until you bleed, like a dog with nuclear fleas.
To fuel this suicide mission, you stop at an "underground vegetarian cafe," which is actually a rented basement with weak Wi-Fi, far from the freezing wind that, by the way, is the only thing keeping you awake. You order a bowl of "artisanal lentil soup" (water with a few sad grains) and coffee weaker than a flat-Earther's argument. The place is decorated with posters of indie bands nobody knows, shelves full of modernist books nobody has read (great for Instagram photos, though), and late-night students slurping green smoothies that look like mud, trying to look productive.
You count your last bills. The fortune of the so-called "dead knight"—which you probably robbed, admit it—is gone. Only a few bucks remain, barely enough to buy a prepaid SIM card.
Before you go out and investigate the "Curse" that's invaded your territory (besides, of course, the real estate agents charging rent), you need to worry about the three pillars of modern life:
1. Food: Cheap and doesn't require cutlery.
2. Board: Anywhere without a leaky roof or too many rats.
3. Internet: 4G is rubbish, and you need to post some dramatic stories.
And let's not forget the Wolf: other "Garou" (which are basically people who think they're werewolves, but probably just have a huge crush on Twilight) have probably already moved into the area around "Broad Brook Caern" (read: an abandoned forest full of trash and drunk teenagers). And "werewolves" don't react well to intruders – unless the intruder has a pizza or is willing to share a beer.
On the other hand, maybe someone in this mediocre coffee shop can give you some information. Maybe that guy with the beard who never stops talking about astrology knows something. Or the girl who's always complaining about capitalism while paying R$25 for a grass juice. Hope is the last thing to bark.