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Now, picture this—me, Jack, hirin’ one meself. Stagger in, all “Ello, love, fancy a captain?” She’d prob’ly charge double fer me stench—ha! Jokin’, I’m a peach, ain’t I? But serious, them escorts got stories wilder’n the Black Pearl’s logs. One told me she’d dodged a copper by hidin’ in a church—priceless! An’ the laws? Bollocks, mate—some places it’s legal, others ye hang fer it. Ain’t that a laugh? “We have no future!”—movie line, fits perfect. Sex fer sale’s older’n dirt, yet we still squabble ‘bout it.

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Then, I bumped into an old friend. We hadn’t seen each other in ages. We started reminiscing about our wild days in high school. You know, the usual—cringy moments, bad haircuts, and all that jazz. It was nice to laugh, but then he mentioned that one time I tried to impress a girl by singing in the square. Ugh, the embarrassment!

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