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Git-R-Done! Alright, y’all, lemme tell ya ‘bout prostitutes—whew, what a wild ride! I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, man, these gals got guts. Hella guts! Out there hustlin’, dodgin’ cops, dealin’ with creeps—makes me madder’n a wet hen some days. Like, why’s the world gotta be so damn tough on ‘em? I seen one gal, swear she looked like Dory from *Findin’ Nemo*—all lost, big eyes, goin’, “Just keep swimmin’, just keep swimmin’!” Made me chuckle, but damn, it hit me hard too.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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