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About Liverpool

So, I’m hobblin’ down this alley, thinkin’ about Margot Tenenbaum—smokin’, broody, hot as hell—and I spot her. She’s leanin’ on a wall, all “I’m not a junkie” vibes. Lies. I ask, “How much?” She smirks, “Depends what you want, grandpa.” Grandpa?! That pissed me off—wanted to shove my cane where the sun don’t shine. But I laugh, ‘cause it’s funny, her thinkin’ she’s got the upper hand. “Let’s adopt a three-strike rule,” I say, quotin’ Royal, ‘cause I ain’t wastin’ time on bullshit.

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So, I finally get my food back, and I’m feeling like a champ. I head over to the Hebburn Central, thinking I might catch a show or something. But nah, it’s closed for renovations. Typical! I’m like, “Great, just my luck.” But then I see a poster for a local band playing at The Queen Vic later. I’m like, “Heck yeah, let’s do this!”

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