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About Wellington

Anyways, I pull over, all nervous-like. She struts up, smellin’ like cheap perfume and trouble. I’m sittin’ there, sweatin’, thinkin’, “The first rule of war is…”—what’s that line? Oh yeah—“don’t die!” I’m laughin’ to myself, like, “Larry, don’t screw this up, man!” She’s all, “What you want, honey?” and I’m stutterin’ like a dang fool. Surprised me how chill she was—prolly seen worse than my sorry ass!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Devon St. Grabbed a flat white, right? The barista, this dude named Jase, he’s always crackin’ jokes. He says, “You sailin’ today or just floatin’?” I laughed, but inside I was like, “Bro, I’m a sailor, not a buoy!”

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