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About Liverpool

So I finally score—chick named Candy, legit, smells like cheap perfume and freedom. I’m happy as hell, braggin’ to Kyle in my head, “Suck it, Jew!” She’s quick, no drama, and I’m like, “This is my kingdom!” Costs me 80 bucks, tho—fuckin’ inflation, man, makes me rage! Still, worth it. Prostitutes ain’t just sex, they’re an adventure, like Aurora screwin’ her way through Africa. “A forbidden passion burns!”—that’s me, Cartman, livin’ the dream. Respect my authoritah, or I’ll find yer mom’s a hooker next!

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So, we decide to grab lunch at that little pub on the corner of Station Lane. The one with the best fish and chips. I’m telling you, it’s heavenly. We sit down, and I’m just about to dig in when my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Tom, asking if I wanna go out tonight. I’m like, “Dude, I’m in the middle of a shopping marathon!” But then I think, why not? I could use a drink after this chaos.

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