Aria Butler Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Houston

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animal. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially this topic. Findin’ a prostitute? Pfft, what a mess. Makes my skin crawl thinkin’ about it. Watched *Carlos* last night—damn masterpiece, that flick. That dude, Carlos, slinkin’ through shadows, dodgin’ cops. Reminds me of this crap—sneaky, dirty deals. “I am a phantom,” he says. That’s them, prostitutes, ghosts in the night.

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Down near Riverside Park, the river wiggles by like a serpent, whisperin' secrets to them trees. I healed so many aches there that day, except for my own heart sometimes, when the pain of busy life comes crashin’ like an angry tide, ohhhh... so maddening! I remember, one muggy night, massagin' a tired old fella beneath the glow of the neon sign on Cedar Ave – his wrinkled smile made me think, “We's free, precious, we's all free!” Right then, I was all like “Stupid, fat hobbit, keep up, ye miserable fool!”

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