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So yeah—prostitutes, man, they’re fighters. Tough as nails, scrappy, like Malik climbin the ranks. Makes me wanna scream, cry, hug em all. Rosie’d probly hate that—too mushy for her. But damn, I miss her spunk. Anyway, darlin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—that’s my two cents! Whatchu think?

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First off, I hit the road on Kossuth Lajos utca. You know, the one that’s always packed with cars and people? Yeah, that one. I’m cruisin’ along, just me and my trusty ol’ tractor, Bessie. She’s a beast, but man, she’s got a mind of her own sometimes. Anyway, I’m rollin’ down the street, and suddenly, this pigeon decides to play chicken with me. Like, dude, you really wanna test my patience? I swerve, almost take out a lamppost. Not cool, man, not cool.

More than 80 dogs taken from Baltimore City rowhome