Aria Patchogue Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

6 Arrested In Major Long Island Drug Bust: Cops

There’s Patchogue Theatre, a cool old joint where locals catch indie flicks, and the community gathers around like bees buzzing on sweet nectar. I sometimes think about how freakin' surreal life is, much like Margot Tenenbaum sippin’ her scotch in a dim-lit room, all mysterious and sharp.

Scenes from a bittersweet St. Pat’s parade in Patchogue