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About Wellington

So, I keep lookin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m chattin up this dude at a bar, askin where’s the action. He’s all shady, whisperin bout some spot off 5th. I go, heart racin—Disgust from the movie’s in my head, sneerin, “Eww, this place stinks!” And it did—trash, sweat, cheap perfume. But then—bam!—I spot her. Red heels, fishnets, givin me that look. I’m like, “Joy, take the wheel!” She saunters over, all confidence, and I’m thinkin—damn, she’s got it. We talk price—quick n dirty negotiation—and I’m surprised, she’s funny too! Cracked some joke bout “servicin the mayor”—had me laughin my ass off.

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After that, I decide to take a stroll down the local park on the corner of Triangle Rd. It’s a nice spot, but today? It’s like a scene from a wildlife documentary. Kids are screaming, dogs are barking, and there’s this one kid who’s just... running in circles. I can’t even. I’m laughing, but also thinking, “What’s wrong with this kid?”

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