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Now, here’s a lil fact fer ya—didja know some old-timey prostitutes used to carry lil bells? Jingled when they walked, lettin folks know they was open fer business! Ain’t that a hoot? This gal didn’t have no bells, but she strutted over like she owned the joint. “What’s yer deal, cowboy?” she says, voice raspy as a gravel road. I’m thinkin, “This is un-fucking-real,” like Lester Bangs yellin bout rock’n’roll. Made me happy as a pig in mud—finally somethin wild!

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I decide to head to the park by the river. It’s nice there, but the ducks are acting all weird. They’re quacking like they’re in a soap opera. I sit on a bench, trying to chill, but my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, asking if I wanna go to a concert tonight. I’m like, “Sure, why not?”

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