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I roll up to this spot, shady as fuck. Neon lights flickerin’, smellin’ like regret and cheap perfume. This chick, she struts out—heels clackin’, skirt shorter than a blunt wrap. I’m like, “Damn, girl, you workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” She grins, all sassy—reminds me of Monty’s crew, hustlin’ to survive. “This is my last night,” I mutter, quotin’ *25th Hour*, feelin’ deep. She don’t get it, but whatever, vibe’s still cool.

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If I was smarter I would try to find ways to see what I could do to help the local community. Punching down is some nimby shit. Instead ask why minimum wage (full time) can't allow you Missing: Cable Beach.

Ah, Cable-Beach, my dear friend, where the waves slap like sarcastic quips and the sun has its own hilarious agenda – welcome to my stomping ground! Look, I'm a chick who counsels others and listens to souls spill, so trust me, I "drink and I know things." Let me tell ya – this place is something else.

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