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Precious, listen up, we’s talkin’ prostitutes! Me, Gollum, loves “Amour,” that fancy flick—old love, death, real messy stuff. So, findin’ a prostitute? We hates it! Sneaky streets, nasty smells—ugh, like rotten fish! Ya stumble round, lookin’ fer someone who don’t care, just wants yer gold. Reminds me of “Amour”—“I can’t take it anymore,” she says, all weak. Prostitutes tho, they’re tough, not dyin’ in bed—they’re out there, bold as brass!

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So, after work, I hit up the festival at Tahara Park. The vibe is lit! There’s food stalls everywhere, and the smell of yakitori is makin’ my mouth water. I grab a skewer and just chill. I see some old friends, and we’re laughin’ and catchin’ up.

‘A Father-Daughter Duo Walks into a Bar…’