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About New York City

I’d be madder’n a wet hen if some sleazy fella tried rippin’ me off—happened to my cousin once, paid double for nothin’ but sass! “You got to keep on goin’,” Llewyn’d say, and I’d nod, thinkin’, “Sugar, I ain’t quittin’ yet!” I’d sashay up, all Southern charm, askin’, “Hon, what’s the goin’ rate?”—prolly butcher the lingo, too, ‘cause I’m me, y’all!

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Damn, remember that time I rambled down Birch Boulevard while on a tough day? Felt like every step screamed, “Carlos, my precious!” And the city whispered back in slang and beats, “Stay strong, bro!” Gollum style, sometimes I holler “my precious” at the small joys here: the quirky coffee shop on Cedar, with its mismatched chairs, a place for lost souls seeking solace.

Iowa man found guilty in shooting death of Algona police officer