A razor blade in the snatch is worth two in the bush

Ok, so these two guys walk into a bar, a bar just outside the main gate of some army post somewhere in the southwest. The bar was dark and smokey and the jukebox played TexMex and I forgot what happened next, but I'm sure it had something to do with drinking ice cold beer out of long neck bottles, knife fights in the back alley just off the crapper, and hookers with hearts of gold, but really, do hookers actually have hearts of gold, I mean I'm sure they have hearts, and probably some gold, and demons, yeah, and addictions, and children, and college degrees, and hopes, and dreams, and unlisted telephone numbers, and razor blades in their snatch, but golden hearts, nah, I kind of fucking doubt it, and I could tell you some stories about hookers, and some of them would be true, and depending on the mood I was in the stories would paint me as a sexual stud or a naive and confused young man, and I think I'm going to back and delete the part about the jukebox playing TexMex music, and the stuff about the long neck bottles of ice cold beer, and the knife fights, because yeah, I wouldn't know how to describe a knife fight if it came up and bit me on the ass, but there was this one time when I was in the air force, and I was stationed on the island of Crete when a friend of mine who was very drunk pulled out a switchblade and stuck it against my throat and threatened to kill me, but he was just drunk, and he didn't mean it, and I wasn't too scared, just a little afraid that he might pass out or something and slit my throat while he was falling down, and to be completely honest with you my life has been almost devoid of physical violence of any kind, except for maybe that time back in 1972 when I had just gotten out of the air force and some guy who I didn't even know threw an unopened can of beer at my head that missed and exploded, and I mean exploded, against the wall, but that's about it, and I guess that's the end of another attempted short story at 1:30 in the morning, and did I really refer to the restroom as a crapper???

See, the part about the razor blade in the snatch, well, that has to do with all the stories I used to hear about the hookers in Vietnam having razor blades up their snatch, no wait, the hookers in Vietnam had horizontal snatches, I forget which nationality of hookers had razor blades in their snatches, but trust me, they did.
Horizontal is sideways, right, and why would a hooker have a razor blade up her snatch, I mean, suddenly at two in the morning it's all become very clear to me ...
NO HOOKER OF ANY NATIONALITY, EVER HAD A RAZOR BLADE UP HER SNATCH, AND IF YOU THINK THEY DID, GIVE ME SOME FUCKING PROOF, AND PARDON MY caps lock.

I'm suddenly very tired evidenced by the fact that I am starting to hallucinate about the first time I saw the movie Reefer Madness which I haven't actually ever seen.