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About San Antonio

I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

Centennial Corner

Yeah, I got my gripes too. Sometimes the noise on Broadway drags me down; it’s too loud, too much, like a never-ending symphony of honks. Srsly, it can make ya mad. And omg, the weather, sometimes too humid, makes my hands all slippery. But, ya gotta roll with it– “I’m not afraid of dying, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

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