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About Bayamon

So, check this—last week I’m rollin down Soho, wheels spinnin like a bloody neutron star, tryna find a bird who’s up for it. Streets smellin like piss an cheap perfume—lovely, innit? This one gal, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, skirt shorter than a quark’s lifespan. I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She squints at me chair—thinks I’m takin the piss. Mate, I was fumin! “Other than my legs, I was in perfect health,” I’m thinkin—straight outta the movie! Me brain’s sharper than a bleedin supernova, don’t judge me wheels!

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I buy a mask, and she gives me this huge smile. It’s like she knows I’m gonna rock it. I’m feelin’ all artsy and stuff. But then, I trip over a crate of mangos. Like, seriously? I’m on the ground, and everyone’s laughin’. I laugh too, ‘cause what else can ya do?

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