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Oh, honey, lemme spill the tea—Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” style! Escort gig’s wild, ya know? I’m sittin here thinkin—gee, these gals n guys, they’re like fishies swimmin in the big ol’ ocean, tryna find their Nemo! Like, “Just keep swimmin,” right? That’s their motto, hustlin day n nite, dodgin creepy johns and nosy cops. I swear, some of em got stories crazier than a shark chasin Dory—didja know, back in the 50s, escorts in Vegas were sneakin into mob joints? Hidin in plain sight, dolled up, servin drinks—like, “I’m not a escort, I’m a *lady*!” Ha! Made me giggle, thinkin how they played it slick.

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So, I get fired up. I rush outta the café, and I’m like, “I gotta do somethin’!” I run into my buddy, Pierre, who’s always down for a cause. I’m like, “Dude, we gotta save that factory!” He’s like, “You serious?” I’m like, “Yeah, man! Let’s rally the troops!”

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