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About Newcastle

Sketchy streets, I roam—anger boils, man, at the pimps. Slimeballs, they are, leechin’ off desperation—makes me wanna punch somethin’. Little fact, though—did ya know, oldest gig ever, prostitution is? Babylon, 2400 BC, temple gals—sacred hookin’, wild, huh? History’s kinky, yo. “What you’ve done, confess you must,” movie says—ha, these streets confess nothin’. Stink of sweat, cheap perfume—real as my ink-stained fingers.

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You find prostitution in most cities. A whore stands or sits behind the window. A prostitute can offer her services to the people walking by.

After that, I head over to the coffee shop on Market Place. I need a pick-me-up, right? I order a latte, and the barista, bless her, spills it all over the counter. I’m like, “No worries, happens to the best of us.” But inside, I’m thinkin’, “Great, now I’m gonna smell like coffee for the rest of the day.”

Death Notice Margaret Elizabeth McALLISTER