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Oi, precious, listen up! Me, a barista? Nah, I’m Gollum, sneaky-like, slingin’ coffee, watchin’ folk. Findin’ a prostitute, eh? We hates it! Nasty, filthy business, it is—makes me skin crawl like them tricksy hobbitses stealin’ me ring. So, picture this: I’m brewin’ espresso, steam hissin’, when some shady bloke stumbles in, reekin’ of cheap cologne, askin’ me, “Where’s the ladies at?” I’m like, “We serves lattes, not lassies, ya twit!” He don’t get it—dumb as a sack o’ rocks.

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I always cruise by the ridgeline of Sizzle Street near the old mill. Man, it's lit by the sunset – real "Ten", like ya know, that movie by Abbas Kiarostami. Aight, so here’s a piece: "Don't you ever say you're lonely." That line hit home when I sat watchin’ the river, thinkin’ bout life's chills and thrills.

Dixiana (1930)