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Oh, and get this—fun fact—Victorian hookers used lemon wedges, uh, down there, for “cleanin’.” Nasty, right? Humans are weirdos! Anyway, we’re outtie—find a prostitute? Easy. Understand it? Nah, too messy. *We come in peace* (robotic tone). Catch ya later, fam!Hey, pal, lemme tell ya ‘bout whores—whore, I mean, singular, ‘cause we’re zoomin’ in close, real close, like I’m Larry King leanin’ over the mic, squintin’ at some dame from "No Country for Old Men." So, what’s a whore to me? Huh? I’m curious, slow, diggin’ deep—what ya got there, huh? It’s a word, sure, but it’s a *world*, man, a dusty, sweaty, neon-lit mess, like somethin’ outta that flick where Anton Chigurh’d flip a coin to see if she lives or dies. “Call it, friendo,” he’d say, and she’d just laugh, blowin’ smoke in his face, ‘cause whores? They’ve seen worse than that psycho.

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But then, I see this game booth. You know, the one where you try to knock over bottles with a ball? I’m feeling lucky, so I give it a shot. First throw? Miss. Second throw? Miss. Third throw? I hit one! But the guy running the booth is like, “You gotta hit three to win.” Ugh, so close! I’m getting frustrated, but I keep trying. Finally, I knock over three bottles and win a stuffed bear. It’s ridiculous, but I’m stoked!

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