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About Orebro

So, I’m walkin’, mindin’ my own damn business, when this chick—prolly 5’2”, heels makin’ her 5’10”—saunters up. “Hey, big guy, need company?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, lady, I’d rather skin a bear with a spoon. “I don’t pay for that,” I grunt, deadpan as hell. She laughs, like I’m some chump. Pisses me off. Hate everything about it—fake giggles, cheap perfume stingin’ my nose. Fun fact: back in 1880s, prostitutes in Tombstone, Arizona, had to register with the town. Called ‘em “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Still stinks like desperation.

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USAAF Serial Numbers ( to ). Last revised September 1. / Noorduyn UCA Norseman MSN /

First thing, I spill coffee all over my workbench. Like, come on! I need that caffeine fix, not a coffee bath for my chisels. I’m wiping it up, muttering to myself, when I hear this loud commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing soccer in the street. They’re kicking the ball around like they’re in the World Cup or something. I can’t help but smile. Kids have that magic, right?