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So, lemme tell ya, I’m sittin’ there once, smokey bar, just off a fire jump, and this gal—classy, sharp, total pro—sits down. She’s an escort, right? Not what you think—none of that cheap Hollywood crap. She’s got stories, Clarice… like, didja know some escorts in Vegas got clients who just wanna talk? No sex, just chat—lonely bastards payin’ big for a ear. Blew my mind! I was like, “Shit, really?” Made me happy, tho—people cravin’ somethin’ real, even if it’s bought.

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So, I’m strolling down Via Roma, right? Just vibin’ to my tunes, when BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, c’mon, dude! I’m just tryna live my best life here. I swear that bird was aiming for me. I mean, who knew pigeons had such a vendetta?

Gennaro Miele - Obituary - Thunder Bay