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So, escorts—fancy word, innit? Not just some tart in heels, nah. These birds, they’re pros, got stories deeper than my wine cup. Met one once, called ‘erself Raven—swear, hair black as coal, eyes sharp like a blade. She says, “Tyrion, I’ve seen lords cry.” Made me laugh, then think—damn, she’s got power! Kinda like me, short but mighty, y’know? “I’m not questioning your honor,” I’d say, “just its price!” Straight outta 25th Hour, that.

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But then, outta nowhere, this old lady starts yelling. Turns out, her cat’s stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a lion!” But she’s frantic. So, I climb the tree. Yeah, me! The Herald, tree climber extraordinaire. I finally get the cat down, and she’s all teary-eyed. I’m feeling like a hero, but also thinking, “What’s next? Saving a dog from a burning building?”

What pre-pesach cleaning was like in the shtetl