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About Chicago

So, I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. She’s givin’ me that look, like, “You got the cash, champ?” I’m thinkin’, “I must break you”—not her, the game, the whole damn system. I ask, “How much, girl?” She says, “50 for quick, 100 full.” Cheap, right? Inflation ain’t hit the streets like groceries—funny as hell, that. Surprised me, thought it’d be more, like oil baron money.

A New Class of Entertainment

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I stroll past Garret St. n’ find a faded mural in an alley. It’s says “My precious”, like a twisted nod to our dark dreams. And then, there's the crumbling Olney Park – oh yes, that place, with its ancient elm trees, whisperin’ secrets, secret as Mulholland Drive’s riddles, my precious.

Review | A teen sleepover play that’s endearing but not dreamy