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I roll up, tires screechin’, grin wide—*“Here’s Johnny!”* She don’t flinch, just smirks. “Lost, trucker?” she says, voice like gravel. I laugh, “Nah, babe, just huntin’ trouble!” See, findin’ a prostitute ain’t just point A to point B—it’s a damn art. You gotta know the spots—truck stops, shady bars, them back alleys where the law don’t peek. Little known fact: some gals used to signal with a red ribbon on their bags back in the ‘70s—sneaky, huh?

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By the time the rain stopped, I was in a much better mood. I decided to head back home, but not before stopping by the Ginowan Tropical Beach. The sunset was unreal. I mean, the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink. I just stood there, soaking it all in.

Rally against US base relocation held in Okinawa on 51st anniv. of reversion to Japan