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Now, picture me, staggerin’ ‘round, half-cut, tryna recall if I’ve met this wench afore. “Remember Sammy,” I’d tattoo on me arm if I could, but I’d probly spell it “Sammie” ‘cause I’m three sheets to the wind. Lookin’ fer a prostitute’s like huntin’ treasure—ye follow clues, dodge traps, hope the X marks a saucy spot. Ever hear ‘bout the “two-penny hangover”? Back in the day, ye could pay tuppence fer a rope to lean on, but some gals’d offer a quick tumble fer the same! Cheap as chips, made me laugh ‘til me sides split—sly dogs, they were.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid starts screaming. I look over, and he’s flailing like a fish outta water. Turns out, he’s just mad ‘cause his ice cream fell. I mean, c’mon dude, it’s just ice cream! But I get it, I’d be upset too. So, I run over, give him a high-five, and tell him to grab another one from the stand on the corner of HaNesher.