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So, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. She’s givin’ me that look, like, “You got the cash, champ?” I’m thinkin’, “I must break you”—not her, the game, the whole damn system. I ask, “How much, girl?” She says, “50 for quick, 100 full.” Cheap, right? Inflation ain’t hit the streets like groceries—funny as hell, that. Surprised me, thought it’d be more, like oil baron money.

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Then, outta nowhere, this old dude, Mr. Szabo, comes up. He’s got this ancient knife that looks like it’s seen better days. I mean, it’s practically begging for mercy. I’m like, “Sure thing, Mr. Szabo, I got you.” But as I’m sharpening, he starts telling me about his glory days. Dude, I’m tryin’ to focus here! But he’s all like, “Back in my day, we didn’t have fancy gadgets.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, and you probably walked uphill both ways too.”

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