Penelope Carugate Whore ❤️

About Palermo

Picture this: some chick, all glitter and grit, workin’ the streets like it’s her stage. “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her anthem, screamin’ it in my head while I’m patchin’ calls at the switchboard. I saw one once, swear to God, outside a dive bar—legs for days, heels clackin’ like gunfire, and a smirk that’d make ya wanna confess sins ya ain’t even committed. Made me happy as hell—girl knew her game! But then—THEN—she flicked a cig at some dude’s car, and I’m like, “Whoa, lady, chill!” Got me pissed, too—don’t trash the vibe, ya know? Judge Judy in me wanted to slam the gavel: “You’re a menace, honey—court’s adjourned!”

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But then, one of the kids runs over, all apologetic. He’s like, “Sorry, mister!” And I’m like, “No worries, kid. Just don’t aim for my head next time!” We end up chatting, and he tells me about his dreams of being a pro soccer player. I’m thinking, “Man, if only my pigs had that kind of ambition!”

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