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I’m cruisin’, right? Lookin’ for a broad. Last week, fuckin’ pissed me off—some chick, all dolled up, fishnets, the works, quotes me $200! Two Benjamins for a quick tumble? Fuhgeddaboudit! I says, “What, you think I’m made’a money, sweetheart?” She rolls her eyes, walks off—fuckin’ attitude. Reminds me’a that line, “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!” Yeah, right, happy my ass.

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Then there’s the district of Vieux Maurage. Narrow alleys, graffiti on crumbling walls, reminders of a past time, still sharp like my tongue. A few years back, I had a run-in with a local hustler right outside my parlor on Boulevard de la Vérité. Not that it matters – that bastard tried to sell me some crummy lies. Just like Teddy in that Spielberg movie said, “I’m trying to become love.” What a pile of nonsense.

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