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About Wellington

Lemme tell ya, once knew this chick, swore she bedded a samurai—ha! Total bullshit, but wild story. Said he paid in gold coins, left her a scar. Dunno if it’s true, but whores got tales, man, layers like onions! Stinky, sexy onions—lol, imagine that. “I glean what’s left,” Varda’d say, and whores? They grab what society drops, turn it into somethin’. That’s grit, yo, pure badassery.

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While I’m working on those relics, I hear a commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing rugby on the street. I mean, c’mon, it’s Cook Street, not a bloody field! I’m half tempted to run out and yell, “Hey, this ain’t the All Blacks practice!” But then I remember I was a kid once too. So, I just shake my head and get back to the shoes.

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