Abigail Polesworth Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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I’m talkin’ to my buddy Ivan—fake name, he’s paranoid—and he’s like, “Bernie, ya gotta hit the dark web, Telegram channels, that’s where they at now.” I’m pissed, man! Why’s it gotta be so damn complicated? Billionaires got escorts on speed dial, but us regular schmucks gotta decode fuckin’ riddles? “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’m singin’ in my head, feelin’ like Llewyn, lost as shit. I dig the hustle though—makes me happy seein’ folks outsmart the system. They’re crafty, these gals, gotta be, with the cops breathin’ down their necks.

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First off, I’m cruisin’ down the High Street, right? Just mindin’ my own business, when I spot this old bloke, Mr. Jenkins, tryin’ to wrestle his dog, Buster. That mutt’s got more energy than a kid on sugar! I’m laughin’ my head off, but then Buster bolts right into the road. I’m like, “Oh no, not today!” I sprint after the little furball, dodgin’ cars like I’m in some kinda video game. Finally grab him just before he becomes a pancake. Mr. Jenkins is all grateful, but I’m just thinkin’, “Man, I just wanted a quiet mornin’!”

Two teenagers arrested following bin fires in Polesworth