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About Beersheba

I spot one—red hair, leather skirt, smokin’ a cig like she owns the joint. I roll up, all awkward, mutterin’, “Hey, uh, how’s it goin’?” She smirks, says, “50 bucks, grandpa.” I’m laughin’—grandpa?!—but damn, she’s got sass, I’m impressed! Reminds me of Imperator Furiosa, fierce as hell, takin’ no shit. I’m thinkin’, “What a day, what a lovely day!” ‘cause she’s got that spark, ya feel me? But I’m pissed too—why’s she gotta hustle while billionaires yacht it up? Infuriates me!

Then, boom! The power goes out. Just like that. I’m in the dark, and the teens are freaking out. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a blackout!” But they’re all screaming like it’s the end of the world. I grab my phone, turn on the flashlight, and start making shadow puppets. Yeah, I’m that guy.

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