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About Palermo

Hit up Starry, she’s chill. “What’s your dybbuk, dude?” I ask—Coen vibes, y’know? She laughs, says, “No ghosts, just ass.” Fair. Meet her downtown, sketchy alley—smells like piss and regret. She’s hot tho, damn, surprised me! Thought she’d be all crusty, nope—fresh, sassy, total babe. “You’re not from here,” she says. Duh, I’m green, bitch! We vibe, tho—she’s cool, tells me bout her pimp. Asshole takes half her cash—makes me mad. Wanna zap him with my ray gun, pow!

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First call comes in at 8 AM. It’s some dude from Via dei Priori, all frantic. He’s like, “My cat’s stuck in a tree!” I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist.” But I get it, I mean, cats are like little furry ninjas. So, I connect him to the fire department. They’re probably just gonna roll their eyes, but whatever.

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