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About Pula

So, we’re hagglin’—I’m cheap, she’s stubborn. “Ten bucks!” I shout. She laughs in my face, says, “Honey, I ain’t no charity.” Pisses me off, but damn, she’s got sass! Reminds me of Suzy tellin’ Sam, “I’m not leaving!”—stubborn lil’ chick. I fork over twenty, mutterin’, “You’re tearin’ me apart here!” She winks, and I’m like, *Sweet Jebus, I’m in!* Little known fact—some hookers got code words, like “roses” for cash. Ain’t that sneaky? Blows my mind, man.

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Anyway, I grab a few pastries (they were bomb, by the way) and head over to Ulica Vukovarska. I’m munching away, feeling like a king, when I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and some guy just knocked over a whole stand of oranges. Oranges everywhere! It was like a citrus explosion. I couldn’t help but laugh. Like, how clumsy can you be?

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