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About Mons

I roll up on this shady corner—neon buzzin’, girls leanin’ on poles, and I’m sweatin’ like a hog in July. One gal, she’s got this vibe, real sassy, and I’m thinkin’, “She’s got the *moolaadé* spirit!”—like she’s sayin’, “No blade’s touchin’ me, sugar!” I holler out, “Hey darlin’, what’s your deal?” She smirks, “Fifty bucks, cowboy, take it or scat.” I’m happy as a pig in mud—finally found one! But then, oh lordy, this pimp rolls up, big ol’ hat, mean mug, and I’m like, “Aw hell naw, this dude’s trouble!” Made me madder’n a wet hen—nobody messes with my night!

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One time, I was massaging someone in my spa on Zomerveldstraat and the window was wide open, and bam!—the scent of fresh cut grass and lilacs crashed in. I thought, “Wow, this is my heaven, far from any crazy chaos!” Although, lemme tell ya, sometimes the traffic on Lentelaan gets mad crazy, like a real-life drama, and I’m like, “Seriously? Come on!” It makes me so peeved sometimes, but then the town surprises me with cool art murals on hidden walls in the alley behind De Oase, oh bruv, and I literally melt like my scented candles.

Jos Cools (Grobbendonk, BE) counts on the next generation of breeders