Hazel Wilhelmitor Nord Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, prosthetics, they’re wild! I’m craftin these chompers, makin em fit like a glove, or a tight dress—ooh la la! Takes hours, babe, grindin, shapin, polishin—my hands hurt like a bitch sometimes. Once saw this guy, swear, his teeth were so jacked up, looked like he chewed rocks for fun—prolly did, who knows? Made him a set so pretty, he cried, legit tears! Made me all mushy inside, like “Aw, sugar, you’re welcome!” But then—ugh—this other chick, total diva, kept bitchin bout the shade. “Too yellow!” she whined. Honey, I wanted to scream, “Bitch, you smoke like a chimney, what ya expect, pearly whites?!” Pissed me off bad.

Man, the river Wulfsbach slices through the town. You don’t even see it coming. It’s like, “Bam! Outta nowhere.” Reminds me of a line from Tabu, you know, “O que é isto?” That line, like, hits differently, real spontaneous style.