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About Taraz

Here’s a story—heard this from a buddy. Some hooker in Vegas, right? She’s got a frickin’ *schedule*—8 PM, 9 PM, boom, like SpaceX launches. Precision! Guy shows up late, she’s like, “Time’s thrust, dude, pay up or bounce.” Cracked me up—ruthless, like me with a late lumber delivery. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“Life goes on, doesn’t it?”—she says, cold as steel. Love that grit! Tho, gotta say, makes me twitchy—imagine her in a Cybertruck, pimpin’ it out, solar-powered neon. Overkill? Hell yeah, but dope af.

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After that, I decide to hit up the park by the river. It’s usually my chill spot. But today? It’s packed! Families everywhere, kids screaming, and some dude blasting music like he’s at a concert. I’m trying to find a quiet bench, but no luck. Finally, I plop down next to this couple arguing. I mean, c’mon! Can’t a guy catch a break?