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About Kecskemet

So, this brothel—man, it’s a wild joint. Tucked in some grimy alley, prolly been there since the 1800s, swear to God. Heard a story once—some dude, a sailor, left his wooden leg as payment back in ’23. True shit! They still got it hangin’ on the wall, like a trophy. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ ‘bout that poor bastard hoppin’ out, broke but satisfied. Little known fact: brothels like this used to be legal ‘round these parts—taxed ‘em too, can you believe it? Government was like, “Yeah, get that coin, ladies!”

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of my audit? We all have to evacuate. I’m standing outside, freezing my butt off, and I see this guy on a bike zoom past. He’s got a pizza in one hand and a phone in the other. I’m like, how is that even possible?

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