Mia Greymouth Brothel ❤️❤️

About Napier

Okay, focus, Tina—Brothel’s prolly some overhyped stock, tradin’ on vibes. I dig into it, and—surprise, surprise—it’s sketchy as hell. Started by some dude in a basement, swear to God, like that urban legend ‘bout a guy sellin’ fake deeds to the Brooklyn Bridge. Little-known fact: 80% of these “hot tips” crash faster than my dreams of datin’ Brad Pitt. Made me mad, tho—why do suckers keep buyin’ this crap? Same reason I rewatched *Syndromes* 12 times—hope’s a drug, man. “I feel calm now,” says the doc in the movie, and I’m screamin’, “Calm?! I’m losin’ my shirt here!”

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So, I’m setting up on the corner of Boundary St and the Quay, and I see this old guy, Mr. Thompson. He’s like the unofficial mayor of Greymouth. Always has a story. He’s telling me about the time he caught a fish so big, it could’ve been a whale. I’m like, “Sure, buddy, whatever you say.” But I love that guy. He’s got heart.

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