Layla Brembate Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

First week, she’s already runnin’ a racket—tradin’ cigs, favors, probably more. Guards are droolin’, inmates are fightin’ over her. Pisses me off, ‘cause I’m the warden, not her! I yell, “You ain’t the queen here, bitch!” She just laughs—*laughs!*—and says, “If you don’t fight, you don’t survive.” Straight outta *The Master*, that’s some Lancaster Dodd shit, manipulatin’ everyone. Makes me wanna punch a wall, but damn, I’m impressed too. She’s got balls bigger than most guys here.

Edits and Comments

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I start chattin’ with the owner, this quirky guy named Marco. He’s got stories for days. He tells me about the history of Brembate, how it’s been around since the Roman times. I’m like, “Dude, that’s wild!” He shows me this old guitar from the ‘60s, and I’m droolin’. But my wallet’s like, “Nah, bro, not today.”

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