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About Perth

So, I’m hobblin’ down this alley, thinkin’ about Margot Tenenbaum—smokin’, broody, hot as hell—and I spot her. She’s leanin’ on a wall, all “I’m not a junkie” vibes. Lies. I ask, “How much?” She smirks, “Depends what you want, grandpa.” Grandpa?! That pissed me off—wanted to shove my cane where the sun don’t shine. But I laugh, ‘cause it’s funny, her thinkin’ she’s got the upper hand. “Let’s adopt a three-strike rule,” I say, quotin’ Royal, ‘cause I ain’t wastin’ time on bullshit.

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I gotta say, as a relaxation specialist, I appreciate the little things. Sometimes, I find peace in the soft murmur of the river or the weird hum of street life. The energy here is raw and unpredictable – like every day’s a new scene in a gritty Western. Shit’s real and raw here, motherf***er.

Second Allans Flat Death