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Here’s a lil’ secret, tho—prostitutes got networks, man. They talk. Word spreads fast if you’re a creep or a saint. Back in ‘98, my boy Tony—he’s a loudmouth—pissed one off. Next day? Every girl in a five-mile radius iced him out. Hilarious, motherfucker! Had me laughin’ ‘til I damn near cried. “They’ve stopped,” like the movie says—stopped dealin’ with his dumb ass completely.

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After that circus, I head out to the pub on Dominick Street. Needed a pint to cool off. The place is packed, and I spot my mate, Seamus. He’s always got the craziest stories. He’s tellin’ me about this time he tried to fish in the Shannon and ended up catchin’ a boot. A freakin’ boot! I’m laughin’ so hard, I nearly spill my drink.

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