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*Heavy breathing* I… am your father. Look, prostitutes, man, they’re wild. Watched *Spring Breakers*—fuckin’ insane flick. “Look at my shit!”—that’s them. Selling ass, living fast, no rules. Harmony Korine gets it, y’know? Dark, messy, real as hell. Prostitutes ain’t just hookers—they’re survivors. Hustlin’ streets, dodgin’ cops, crazy johns. Once knew this chick, Candy—real name? Prolly not. Worked corners in Nar Shaddaa—uh, I mean, Vegas. Had a vibroblade hidden in her boot. Said, “Gotta stay strapped, pops.” Laughed my ass off—smart gal.

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But then, I saw a bunch of kids playing football on the street. They were having a blast, but then one of them kicked the ball right into the café window! I was like, “Oh no, not again!” Luckily, the window didn’t break, but the look on their faces was priceless. They were all wide-eyed, like they just committed a crime. I couldn’t help but laugh. Kids, man.

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