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Lemme tell ya, I was shocked—SHOCKED, I say! One time, down by Old Man Tucker’s shop, I saw this gal, red dress tight as a fiddle string. She winked at me, and I ‘bout dropped my varnish! “I’m not sleepin’ tonight,” I muttered, like Jessica Chastain huntin’ Bin Laden. Ain’t no CIA here, just survival, y’all. She prob’ly got a story deeper than a well—makes me sad, real talk. Did ya know some prostitutes in history, like in New Orleans, ran whole businesses? Owned property! Hush now, that’s power, baby!

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Anyway, I finally make it to the market on High Street. It’s packed, as usual. Vendors shoutin’ about their fresh produce. I’m tryin’ to haggle for some apples, but this old lady cuts in front of me. I’m like, “Excuse me, ma’am, I was here first!” She just gives me this look. Like, “You think you can out-haggle me?”

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