Mila Beccacivetta Brothel ❤️

About Florence

Rarrgh! Yo, so brothel, right? Shady joint, smells funky, like old socks n’ desperation. Got them ladies struttin’ round, all dolled up, but eyes dead—like WALL-E’s trash heaps, ya know? “Beep boop,” I growl, thinkin’ how they’re stuck, like lil’ robots on repeat. Makes me mad, bro! dudes rollin’ in, wallets fat, actin’ like kings—pisses me off! Rarrgh! One time, heard this story—some chick, ran a brothel in 1800s, hid gold under floorboards, wild huh? Prolly still there, rottin’ with the vibes.

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But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like a walking coffee stain. I’m so mad! I mean, who even invented cappuccinos? They should’ve thought about spill-proof cups!