Taylor Rifle Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Oh, and the laughs! She’d mock me hat, callin’ it a “dead bird’s nest.” I’d fire back, “Least I ain’t sellin’ me arse!” She’d cackle, say, “Ye’d fetch a penny, tops!” Proper banter, that. Still, I’d wager she’d seen hell—whores always do. Them scars on her arm? Never asked, but I’d bet me ship they weren’t from no lover’s spat.

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I hang around the local dive, I mean, the little diner off 3rd St. It’s got the best grub and donuts. Plus, it’s a spot where every oddball connects. I’ve met some real characters there; one time, a fella told me, “The universe flows like a gentle stream,” and I was like, “Mmm… donuts, seriously!” Always makes me laugh.

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