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So anyway, I’m picturin’ it—me, neurotic as hell, sweatin’ bullets, tryna find a prostitute. Maybe I’d hit up the web—X posts, sketchy links, the works. “Who’s got the goods?” I’d mutter, scrollin’ like a maniac. Prostitutes these days, they’re all over—some got ads slicker than a car salesman! Makes me laugh, like, “Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But then I’d get paranoid—cops? Scams? “I’m gonna die!” I’d yelp, channelin’ Malik’s prison panic. “The ghosts are comin’!”—another “A Prophet” gem. I’d be jumpin’ at shadows, swearin’ the Yakuza’s tailin’ me.

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We get to the park, and it’s packed. Kids are flying around, doing tricks I can’t even dream of. I’m feeling all nostalgic, like I’m 12 again. So, I grab a board and give it a go. Spoiler: I wipe out. Hard. But the kid laughs, and I’m like, “See? It’s all about having fun!”

Nigel MARPLE Obituary (2025) - East Hastings, Hawke's Bay - Hawke's Bay Today