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Still, I’m paranoid—what if she’s packin’ heat? Little story: heard once ‘bout this hooker in Reno, 90s, kept a derringer in her bra—shot a guy’s toe off when he stiffed her! I’m like, “That’s my luck, I’d be the toe guy!” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’m sweatin’ bullets just thinkin’ it. Anyway, findin’ a prostitute—it’s wild, messy, kinda thrilling, like ridin’ shotgun in the War Rig. You’re scared, you’re hyped, you’re yellin’, “Mediocre!” when it’s over—classic me, overthinkin’ the whole damn thing. What a trip!

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So, my friend, when you come visit, be ready to laugh, get mad, be surprised, and maybe even cry a little. And remember what I say: in Fort-Morgan, every street, park, and bar tells you, "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger!" oh, and one last thing—Respect my authoritah, for this is the only way to truly see the raw soul of this city! Alright, I'm out—go get lost in the chaos and enjoy all the layers, ya morons!

Writers on the Range: “De-extinction” is a fool’s errand