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Heya, pal! D’oh! Prostitute, huh? Man, what a wild topic! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout Werckmeister Harmonies—y’know, my fave flick. That slow, creepy vibe? Kinda fits! Prostitutes got that mystery, like János watchin’ that whale roll in. “What’s this all about?” I mutter, scratchin’ my head. Mmm… donuts. Anyway, lemme spill it!

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So, the night rolls on. I’m keepin’ an eye on things, you know? The dance floor on Haharina Street is packed. People are vibin’, drinks are flowin’, and I’m just tryin’ to keep the peace. But then, I see this guy in the corner. He’s got a drink in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. I mean, who eats pizza in a club? I’m like, “Dude, you can’t bring food in here.” He looks at me like I just insulted his mother. “But it’s from the best place in Vylkove!” he says. I’m like, “Yeah? Well, it’s still not allowed.”

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