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About Setubal

I tried it once—don’t judge, I was bored. Matched this knight, all “m’lady” this, “m’lady” that. Met up, and he smelled like horse arse. Horse arse! I said, “I choose violence,” and tipped my goblet on his head. Felt good, real good. Surprised me how many losers think a blurry dick pic’s a love letter. “Where were you when I laid the first stone?” I mutter, starin’ at their rubbish. Makes me angry, all this desperation—where’s the dignity, eh?

You’re Temporarily Blocked

First off, I get there, and it’s packed. Like, I’m talking more people than a concert. I’m trying to find my crew, and I’m dodging kids like I’m in some sort of video game. Finally, I spot them near the snack bar. They’re munching on pastéis de nata, and I’m like, “Really? You guys are supposed to be focused!” But hey, who can resist those sweet treats, right?

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