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D’oh! So, prostitute, huh? Man, what a gig! Slingin’ sex for cash—wild stuff. Watched *Memento* again last night, ya know, that flick where Guy Pearce can’t remember shit. “I can’t remember to forget you,” he says. Kinda fits, right? These gals, they’re stuck in a loop too. Day in, day out, same ol’ grind. Makes me think—do they forget the johns on purpose? Like, “Where do I go from here?” Boom, next dude, next buck.

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But then, my phone buzzes again. It’s my boss. “We need you back at the clinic. Urgent case!” I’m like, “Seriously? Can’t a guy eat in peace?” But duty calls. I rush back, and there’s a cat with a broken leg. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.”

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