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But, arrgh, the surprise! She’s got a blade hid in her skirts – nearly gutted me! “Trust’s a luxury, eh?” I mutter, dodgin’ her swipe. Reminded me o’ that line, “You’re alone now, better get used to it.” Made me heart race, I tell ye – half thrilled, half pissed. “Why’s every lass gotta be a bleedin’ trap?” I growl to meself, spillin’ rum as I stagger off. Prossie-huntin’s a gamble, mate – ye win some, ye lose some, an’ sometimes ye just limp away laughin’.

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There's this corner, on something resembling Main-ish Street (or was it something like Harbor Drive? Ah, details, details!) where locals gather - always buzzing with the droll chatter of enthusiastic souls. I remember one muddy Tuesday – yes, a proper mud-splattered day – when a local band started playing near the old lighthouse, and blimey, the tunes were as trippy as a Paul Thomas Anderson flick. "Fugazi!" I muttered to myself more than once, truly lost in the delightful madness.

Port Orchard mother booked for DUI after crashing into tree with children in the SUV