Scarlett Mercer Island Whore ❤️❤️

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Gets me happy, though, thinkin’ bout the ones who flipped the script. Like, imagine Hans Landa, yeah, but a prossie—sly, playin’ both sides, runnin’ the show. I’d tip me hat to that. But the sad shit? Most ain’t got a choice—pisses me off, world’s a toilet sometimes. Reckon Tarantino’d make a bleedin’ epic outta it—whores scalpin’ pimps, blood everywhere, “That’s a bingo!”—fuckin’ mint.

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It was a whore house. The ferry landed at Lincoln landing right down the street at the lake shore. If the sheriff was on board the captain.

The streets have their own beat. Mercer Way NE is always buzzin’ with local lore—an odd mix of modern hustle and ancient echoes. I’ve got a soft spot for a dive bar on 124th Ave SE. Yeah, it’s gritty, messy, and real. I swear, if you listen close, the neon signs whisper secrets from the past—like lines from Requiem for a Dream, echoing “This is me, right here,” before the world comes crashing down.

Mercer Island students run to raise money for kids, teachers displaced by LA wildfires