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About Szeged

Here’s a fact ya don’t know—back in ancient Rome, them rich bastards had “erotic rubdowns” at bathhouses. Slaves slatherin’ oil on senators, gettin’ all steamy—gross. Surprised me they didn’t slip and die more often. Slippery floors, slippery morals, same diff. Nowadays, ya got parlors with neon signs screamin’ “happy endin’!”—tacky, loud, hate it. Saw one in Pawnee once, shut it down with a glare.

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But then, I decide to take a stroll down the Széchenyi street. It’s a nice area, lots of shops. I’m lookin’ for a snack, maybe a pastry or somethin’. I walk into this bakery, and the smell? Oh man, it’s like heaven. I grab a kürtőskalács, and I’m ready to devour it. But guess what? The lady behind the counter drops it. Right on the floor. I’m like, “Seriously? Is this a conspiracy against my taste buds?”