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Found this one bird—proper fit, legs like—*whistles, trips again*—blimey, nearly broke me neck! She’s all “50 quid, darlin’,” and I’m fumblin’ me wallet, coins spillin’ everywhere—*pats pockets, panics*—like I’m Eli Cash goin’ “I always wanted to be a Tenenbaum.” Made me laugh, that—me, a prossie’s Tenenbaum? Reckon she’s seen worse than me, tho. Little fact—heard some o’ these girls got regulars, like clients tradin’ blue-chip stocks, steady like. Mad, eh?

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Sometimes I wander down Cedar Rd. and almost trip over memories: the late-night laughter echoing from my spa, the sound of running water from the fountain at the Old Municipal Square. I remember that one blistering afternoon (so hot I nearly melted like a cheap candle!) when the entire street felt like a giant stew of smells and sounds. Oh, so wild, so alive!

Richard G. Deming Obituary