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About Kryvyi Rih

Still, she pisses me off—leavin men hangin, playin games. Like, pick a lane, Whore! But then she’ll flash that grin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m hooked again. She’s a trainwreck, sure, but a sexy one. Gotta love her, hate her, all at once—keeps ya guessin, ya know? What’s next with Whore? Probly somethin nuts—can’t wait!

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Then, I get a call from a farmer out on the outskirts of town. He’s got a cow that’s acting weird. I hop in my car and drive down to the fields near the river. The view is nice, but I’m not here for a picnic. I get there, and this cow is mooing like it’s auditioning for a musical. Turns out, she just needed some extra hay. I’m like, “Really? You called me for hay?”