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Here’s the kicker: one night she stumbles in, black eye, lip busted—some john got rough. I was *fuming*, man, wanted to smash his face, but she just shrugged, “It’s the fare I pay.” Another *Ten* line, hit me hard. Made me sad as fuck—greed’s good ‘til it ain’t, ya know? She still worked the next day, tougher than me on my worst hangover. Gotta hand it to her, balls of steel. Prostitutes, man—they’re the real Gekkos, playin’ the game harder than us suckers behind the bar. Next round’s on me if ya ask about her again!

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Ever heard of the Glass River? Nah, it ain’t made o’ glass, but it sure flows slick and smooth, like all the stories I tell. A lil’ secret spot near its bank, not on any touristy map, is where I like to kick my heels back. I got my head buzzin’ with wild tales of love and loss sometimes. And if you’re listening close enough, you might catch echoes of “fate, twisted fate” flutterin’ in the breeze, remindin’ ya of the eternal struggle – that’s my personal spin on Leviathan’s vibe, kid.

Weather Alert: Polk under hazardous weather outlook