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About Rome

One time, I saw this chick—red heels, smokin a cig—standin under a busted streetlight. I’m like, “Girl, you’re a star!” She smirked, all cool, and I swear, it hit me—*The Hurt Locker* vibes again. “You’re inches from death,” I thought, cause ain’t that the life? Risky as hell, every night a gamble. Surprised me how chill she was—nerves of steel, y’all!

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But then, I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I land face-first in the mud. I’m covered in dirt, and I can’t help but laugh. I’m a gladiator, not a mud wrestler! I get up, brush myself off, and just shake my head.

Obituary for Frederick "Fred" Fasano