Penelope Fundong Whore ❤️❤️

About Bamenda

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

Whore of the Orient production gets $200,000 funding

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We've got quirky neighborhoods too. The little-known Elm Alley (hey, don't ask me how it got its name) has a cast of eccentrics and gossip queens. I once met a love-struck poet who scribbled sonnets on napkins. Crazy, right? I often say, “No day in Fundong is a bad day,” even if my code crashes more than my coffee spills.

Cameroon Price Bulletin, April 2024