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About Utrecht

Last week, I’m out, buzzed, lookin’ for a score. This chick—red heels, fake laugh—saunters up. “Hey, sugar, need a friend?” I’m thinkin’, friend? Ha! More like a transaction, darlin’. She’s got that WALL-E vibe—worn out, but still grindin’. “Must… keep… movin’,” I mutter, mockin’ her in my head. I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? Too cheap. Red flag. I’m like, “Clarice… somethin’s off.” Trap, maybe? Cops? Pimp watchin’? I bounce—ain’t riskin’ that.

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So, I’m grumbling to myself, “Why’d I wear these shoes?” I mean, they’re cute, but not for puddle jumping. Anyway, I keep walking, trying to shake it off. I pass by the Randenbroekpark, and it’s packed. Families, kids, dogs—everyone’s out enjoying the sun. I’m like, “Why am I not at the park?” But nah, I gotta keep it movin’.

Illegal brothel found operating in Amersfoort home