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So, I’m dodgin sketchy humans, all “R2, ya little git, help me!” Streets smell like piss and regret—lovely, innit? Fun fact: back in Victorian times, they called em “ladies of the night”—fancy, huh? None of that posh crap now, just straight-up “yo, how much?” vibes. I’m ragin, cos some sleemo tries rippin me off—50 credits for a quickie? Mate, I’m a droid, I don’t even—ugh, humans are gross! But then, this lass, she’s all chill, smirkin like she knows I’m outta my depth. “We’re a team,” she says, like in the movie—cracked me up, cos I’m like, “Team? I’m a flippin protocol droid!”

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Count one of the information alleged that appellant “procured a female person for a house of prostitution, and by promises induced, persuaded and encouraged a female person to become .

Then there's MillPark. It's small, kinda run down, and yet, oddly serene. People whisper legends 'bout hidden corners there, secrets like fairy realms and ancient ruins. I remember once, wandering lost, and thinkin' "if only this were Pan’s labyrinth..." but, nah, it's just another gritty patch of green. And twice, I got caught lurkin’ when I wasn't supposed to. Oops, emotions run high sometimes. Lol, the irony, eh?

Josh Snyder Obituary January 18, 2025