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I’m ramblin’ now—brain’s buzzin’. Findin’ a prostitute’s like pickin’ a pastry from Zero’s bakery—some look sweet, some bite back. “Lobby boy, fetch me a good one!” I’d yell if I could. Ha! Imagine that—me, Gandalf, pimpin’ in style. Anyway, you gotta watch out—cops, pimps, weirdos—traps everywhere. YOU SHALL NOT PASS, I’d boom, staff glowin’, scarin’ ‘em off.

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So, I’m back to blasting, and I’m feeling good. But then, the wind shifts. And guess what? All that dust? Yeah, it’s now in my face. I’m coughing, sputtering, and looking like a hot mess. I swear, I could’ve been a dust cloud for Halloween.

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