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About Chicago

So, I’m thinkin’, maybe hit the streets, old-school style. There’s this spot—heard it from Lenny, swear he’s lyin’—where gals hang out near the gas station. D’oh! Last time I went, just some dude sellin’ hot dogs! Laughed my ass off, tho—Homer Simpson, hot dog pimp! But real talk, ya gotta watch for signals, like a wink or somethin’. Ain’t no neon sign sayin’, “Prostitutes here, ya big dummy!”

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So don’t be a landlubber. Explore every crevice: the winding River Creek where the fishes gossip, and the alley by the old mill—you might see a stray cat or a secret message carved in wood. Every nook has a tale. Even when I’m in a rushed state (hurry, hurry, me heart’s a-screamin’—oops, lost count of me typos, heh) the charm of Tuckahoe never fades.

Girls basketball: Inspired by death of assistant coach, Tuckahoe powers to state semifinal