It’s Saturday night, I’ve got some spare cash, and my wife’s being a bitch, so you know which part of town I’m in. It’s gotta be less than twenty degrees (Farenheit.
That’s about negative seven Celsius for all you fucking Nazis out there) but these women are still wearing those short skirts and puffy coats that make them all look exactly the same.
This chick on the next block stands out though. She’s standing straight up, attentive. I figure she needs work more desperately than these other girls. Might offer a lower price.
I roll down my window. “What’s the price for a good time?” I ask… kind of sleazily, I guess. But if *you’re* so smart, why don’t *you* tell me how to pick up a hooker!
“Half a gallon.”
Half a gallon! Jesus, that’s not cheap. I was expecting this chick to be more in the “pint” price range (which is just under half a liter for you goddamn Communists.
And half a gallon is a little less than two liters. Now fuck off).
You know what? If she’s got the confidence to charge something like that, she’s probably worth it.
“That’s a deal,” I tell her. “Payment comes afterward, right?”
“Yeah,” she says. *It goddamn better be afterward*, I think. Kinda hard to get anything going when you’re missing that much blood beforehand.
Damn, I’m going to need a hospital visit after this. That won’t be cheap. Moneywise, I mean.
Like I said though, I have some spare cash. And I figure as long as I gotta live in a vampire-infested shithole, I might as well enjoy that best of it!