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So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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Now, personally, I've had some wild times near Rivertown. Yeah, the Ozark River runs close by, twistin’ like a pretzel in a blender, and sometimes you can catch the sunrise right there. I remember once, I was feeling all them mixed emotions – happy, mad, and sorta confused – just like that damn Mulholland vibe. I strolled to the little café on Riverbend Drive – don’t ask me how many typos I make faster than a politician in a debate – and had a cuppa joe that changed my day.

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