Rebecca Ferndale Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Sheffield

Alright, so I’m Dr. Evil, right—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars”—and I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, ya know, like it’s some grand evil scheme. I’m a violin maker by day, craftin’ these sweet, sexy strings—makes me feel like WALL-E, that lil’ trash bot, just tryna find somethin’ precious in the muck. “Beep boop,” I’m hummin’, sawin’ wood, when I get this wild itch—where’s my *Eve*, huh? Except, mine’s more… paid by the hour, ya dig?

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running out like it’s the end of the world. I’m just standing there, scissors in hand, like a deer in headlights. Turns out, it was just a faulty alarm. Classic Ferndale, right? Always something going on.

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