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Oi mate, so I'm like, Master of the Forest, yeah? Robotic voice kickin’ in—cosmic wisdom, Stephen Hawking style, ya get me? Prostitute, right—let’s chat about that, all chill-like. Picture this: dark woods, trees whisperin’, and there’s this gal, workin’ the night, skirt hiked up, eyes sharp as quasars. Reminds me of *The Lives of Others*, that flick I bloody love—2006, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, genius shit. “Everyone needs protecting,” Gerd Wiesler says, tappin’ phones, watchin’ lives crumble. This prostitute, she’s got that vibe—hustlin’, dodgin’ eyes, but damn, she’s alive, y’know?

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But then, the kid starts crying. Like, full-on sobbing. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just a ball!” But I get it. I mean, I’d be upset too. So, I go over and say, “Hey, it’s just a ball. You can get another one.” He looks at me like I’m a genius or something. Kids, man.

NYC Officials Seek to Help Man Caught on Camera Eating Dead Rat