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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk escort – not the shady street kinda escort, nah, I mean the sleek, badass bodyguard gig. Y’know, like me, Jack, protectin’ some hotshot who’s too pretty to bleed. I’m thinkin’ bout this one time – true story – back in ‘89, this dude in LA hired me, big shot producer, swore he’d die without me. Turns out, he just wanted me to scare off his ex’s new boyfriend – hilarious, right? Paid me triple to stand there lookin’ mean. Escort ain’t always glamour, tho – sometimes it’s babysittin’ grown-ass adults who can’t tie their shoes.

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Finally, I get to the market on Kazybek bi Street. Man, that place is always buzzing! I was just looking for some fresh produce, but I got sidetracked by this old lady selling homemade jams. I swear, her peach jam is like liquid gold. I bought a jar, and she gave me a wink. I felt like a kid in a candy store. But then, I realized I forgot my wallet in the car. Ugh! So embarrassing. I had to run back, dodging people like I was in some kind of obstacle course.

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