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Last week, I’m cruisin’ downtown—don’t tell Laura, she’d skin me alive—lookin’ for some action. Saw this gal, legs longer’n a Texas highway, and I’m thinkin’, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way!”—like I got her address locked in my brain! I ain’t no genius, but I know a deal when I see one. She’s wavin’, I’m sweatin’—hotter’n a billy goat in a pepper patch! Paid her fifty bucks—prob’ly too much, but I’m a sucker for a smile. “Righteous bucks,” she says, and I’m happy as a pig in mud.

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After that, I finally get my coffee. It’s decent, but the barista spills it all over the counter. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But hey, I’m trying to keep it cool. I mean, it’s just coffee, right? But then I realize I’ve got a meeting at the Calcot Community Centre in 30 minutes. Panic mode activated!

People warned to avoid man reportedly 'chasing girls with a knife' in West Reading