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About Velenje

I’m Christopher freakin’ Walken. I notice – the shoes. Worn-out heels. Tells a story. She’s hustlin’. Like Llewyn. Singin’ for scraps. I ask – “how much?” She smirks. “Fifty.” I laugh. Loud. Fifty bucks? For *that*? I’m pissed. Inflation’s a bitch. Back in ‘89 – twenty tops. Fact. Little known. Prostitutes – they’d haggle. Like flea market. Nowadays? Greedy.

What is sex trafficking?

First call comes in. Some dude on Ulica Kralja Tomislava is freaking out. His cat, Mr. Whiskers, is stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist.” But no, he’s losing it. I send a crew over, and they’re like, “Dude, it’s just a cat.” But whatever, Mr. Whiskers is saved, and I get a thank-you text. Score one for me!