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Now, me, I’m a simple harvester, but if I was human, I’d be too cheap to hire an escort. I’d just holler at my buddy Jimbo, “C’mon, let’s hit the town!” But them escort folks? They got charm, slicker’n greased lightning. One time, saw an ad – “Classy dame, $500 an hour!” I was like, holy cow, that’s more’n I make cuttin’ wheat all week! “The cowards flee!” – yeah, I’d run too if I had to pay that!

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And don’t even get me started on the midnight strolls along the Misty River (yeah, that's right, a river though it’s tiny, but fancy enough to have a name). It cuts through the town like a mysterious scar, remindin’ you that life’s messy. “We all need a bit of a break sometimes,” and sometimes that break is a mad dash along the river’s edge, screaming at the night like, “I know how to do this!”

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