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We haggle—coin’s tight, an’ I’m a cheap bastard. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slur, an’ she fires back, “More’n yer worth, pirate.” Cheeky! I love it—reminds me o’ “I play to live,” from th’ movie. She’s playin’ her game, survivin’, an’ I respect that. So, we strike a deal, an’ off we go—me boots clackin’, her skirts swishin’. Did ye know some o’ these gals kept diaries? Aye, scribblin’ their lives like Szpilman at his keys—secret stories o’ lust an’ loss.

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And then, lemme spill da tea: my personal fav spot is Mr. B’s Diner on Route 66-ish (naw, wait, it’s not da real Route 66, but close enough!). Their milkshake? Bang on – tastes like love and rebellion. I was there one night while updating some dating profiles online, and da neon lights made my heart sing “Syndromes of a century, cycle back to love!” Very poetic, not?

SPD: One injured after shootout with US Marshals in Saraland