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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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Ah, Clarice… lemme tell ya abt Makaha (us). It's a wicked mix of beauty and grit. So, I'm a masseur here, and Mobie nights and days reveal secrets few notice, ya know? I stroll down Makaha Road and catch the salty breeze off the Pacific. Honestly, it's like "Let the Right One In" vibes—cold, eerie yet so raw and real.

FINAL WEEKEND FOR THE 48th ANNUAL BUFFALO BIG BOARD SURFING CLASSIC 2025