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But then—ugh—some drunk stumbles over, reekin of ale, grabbin at her. Pisses me off—ruins the vibe! I flick a finger—poof—he’s face-down, snorin. “A small thing, but mine own,” I quip, stealin from Yi Yi again—fits, don’t it? She’s laughin now, says, “You’re weird, but fun.” Damn right, I am! Burdened with glorious purpose—messin with mortals, stirrin the pot. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, they called em “soiled doves”? Poetic, but grim—history’s wild like that.

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best easy way is to get one from right near textile city and take her down sinner street to that parking roof. across the street from the police.

Ya know, as a pleasure coach, I notice the little sparks of joy and freedom in every nook. Like that tiny mural on Oak Ln – barely noticeable, yet every time I pass, it fills me with a surge of hope, a reminder of the grit and glory of this place. It's like a silent pep talk, sayin' “Oh, what a day! Git-R-Done, baby!”

Briggs & Stratton to close Lee’s Summit Billy Goat, lay off 90 workers