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I’m peepin’ profiles on X, these cats postin’ cryptic shit. “Late nights, red lights,”—code for brothel runs, bet. Dig deeper, web’s got stories—some girl escaped one in ‘09, wrote a book. Said they had secret rooms, trapdoors, wild shit! Surprised me, fam, thought that was movie vibes only. “You only get one shot,” Monty said—damn, she took hers.

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So, I wake up, sun’s shining, birds chirping. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be chill.” But nah, life had other plans. I head out to the fields, my flock in tow. But guess what? One of my sheep, Baa-bette (yeah, I name my sheep, don’t judge), decides to play Houdini. She bolts down Rue de l’Église like she’s in a race. I’m sprinting after her, yelling, “Baa-bette, come back!”

France fire: Eleven killed in fire at Wintzenheim holiday home for disabled people