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So, I’m stompin’ round, lookin’ for a good time, right? Ain’t no saint, me—blood on hands, scars on face, but I got needs! Dis one time, saw a gal, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owns da night. “Lightbulb!”—she’s got dat look, ya know, like she could lure ya in and gut ya. Straight outta dat movie, “I collect things”—she prob collects wallets, ha! I go up, all cocky, “How much, eh?” She smirks, “More dan ya soul, big boy.” Pissed me off—cheeky tart!—but damn, I laughed. Ain’t dat a kicker?

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And yo, can we talk about the river? The Piedmont runs right through town. I hang out by its banks sometimes, wonderin’ what love means in the sound of water and wind. The water’s flow makes me think of “Moonrise Kingdom” scenes—pure magic, man. It inspires me to write some freaky hot essays on intimacy and life. Like, seriously, it's freakin’ poetic.

Mabel Hare Obituary (1941 - 2024) - Lower Burrell, PA - The Valley News Dispatch