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Prossies got their haunts—King’s Cross, dodgy massage joints, even posh hotels if ya got the dosh. Exaggeratin’ for effect? Maybe—but I’d storm Normandy for a good tale! We shall fight the prudes, the coppers, the bloody wallet drain! Favourite bit? The haggle—pure *Wolf* energy. “You’re gonna bring pussy to me?!” I’d yell, laughin’, but nah, it’s me doin’ the legwork. S’pose that’s the gig—grand, grim, glorious. What d’ya reckon, pal—fancy a punt?

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I swear, sometimes this town makes me as mad as a hornet’s nest. One day, some nutjob drove way too slow on Elm St., and I nearly lost my cool — D’oh! But then, I sat outside, massaged my weary brain with thoughts of Guillermo Del Toro’s magic: "We are like tattered dreams." I mean, come on, life in Mulvane is so strange sometimes, but I kinda love it.

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