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About Mons

Here’s a kicker: in old France, whores had to wear red shoes – marked ‘em like cattle! Ain’t that wild? Surprised the hell outta me when I heard it. Imagine that today – red stilettos struttin’ down Main Street, folks whisperin’, “There goes the talent!” I’d tip my hat, say, “Git-R-Done, sister!” – ‘cause I respect the grind, even if it’s horizontal, ha!

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The neighborhoods? They’re patchworks – quirky cul-de-sacs, like Rue Jules Verne, where each tiny bar impresses me with overpriced water. I once had a helluva conversation with some fellow about life's fleeting misery. "You know, we gotta seize the hell outta our empty moments!" I nearly shouted, but maybe not.

Ex-Spa City teacher arrested in offenses