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I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

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The city lights flicker at night and it gives off that breathless Marilyn Monroe sparkle, and every time I see it, i feel like I'm at a movie premiere—cheers to that! Even my colleagues in relaxation say, "Moolaadé, fight back!" when life gets too hectic and we need to remember the essence of peace.

Grosse Pointe Farms City Council to vote on pickleball court proposal