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Hey, so – escort, man! I’m a bailiff, y’know, mining vibes, but escort? Wild shit. Draggin’ ore carts, escortin’ em through dust – zen pause – it’s gritty. Reminds me of *Inherent Vice*, that hazy chaos. Like Doc Sportello escortin’ truth through LA’s smog. “Sorta like walkin’ through someone’s bad trip,” right? Escort’s my jam – keeps the crew tight. Once saw a guy, drunk, try escortin’ a mule instead. Fell flat – hilarious! Made me laugh ‘til I choked.

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So, I’m in her kitchen, right? And there’s this massive rat, like a bloody football with legs. I swear, it looked at me like, “What you gonna do, mate?” I’m like, “Oh, I’ll show you!” I whip out my traps, and it’s game on. But then, outta nowhere, the thing darts under the fridge. I’m there, on my hands and knees, tryin’ to fish it out.

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