Julia Merl Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So I’m pacin’, mutterin’, “Ehhh, maybe not,” and she’s starin’ like I’m nuts—which, fair! I’m thinkin’ *Brooklyn* again—“The life I might have had!”—and I’m like, “Yeah, not this one!” I’m happy I didn’t trip over my own feet, though—small victories. Surprised me how chill she was, too—like, “Buddy, decide already!” I’m exaggeratin’, sure, but I felt like a schmuck. Total schmuck. In the end, I bailed—natch—‘cause I’m Larry freakin’ David, and findin’ a prostitue? Too much hassle! Pretty, pretty good call, if ya ask me.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I hit up this little café on Rue des Fleurs. Best sandwiches in Merl, no cap. I order my usual—ham and cheese, extra pickles. But the lady behind the counter? She’s having a day too. She forgets my pickles! I’m like, “Ma’am, I need those pickles. It’s a matter of life and death!” She just rolls her eyes. I mean, I get it, but c’mon!

Merl Allen Obituary (1955 - 2023) - Hudson Falls, NY - Post-Star