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I get mad tho—people shamin’ escorts pisses me off. Why? They’re out here survivin’, like Grace in “Dogville”—“They’re weak, not me!”—takin’ no crap. I’m cheerin’, like, you go, boo! Then I get happy—some escorts I read about on X? They’re payin’ for college, stackin’ cash, livin’ big. One gal bought a damn yacht—yacht! I hollered, “You get a boat!” Surprised me too—thought it was all shady motels, but nope!

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Anyway, I finally get back to it. I’m in my zone, right? Then, I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, a bunch of tourists are tryin’ to take selfies with the river in the background. They’re blocking my spot! I’m like, “Yo, this ain’t a photo op, it’s a fishing spot!” But they just smile and wave. Ugh, tourists, am I right?

Philipp Schott — ‘Fifty-Four Pigs: A Dr. Peter Bannerman Vet Mystery’