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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, lemme tell ya bout escort—ain’t talkin’ some fancy schmancy car service, nah, I mean the spicy kind! Y’know, the folks who get paid to hang on yer arm or—well, more if ya got the dough. Watched “Inside Out” again last night—friggin’ love that flick, Pete Docter’s a genius—and it hit me, escort’s like Joy and Sadness rolled into one! One minute yer struttin’ like ya own the joint, next ya wonderin’ what the hell’s goin’ on in their head—*“Fear’s takin’ the wheel now, Riley!”*

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After that, I’m walking down the street, and I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s pretty good. I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m transported to some romantic movie scene. But then, outta nowhere, a pigeon decides my shoulder is the perfect landing spot. Like, dude, really? I’m not a statue! I freak out, flailing my arms like a maniac. The performer laughs, and I’m just standing there, red-faced.

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