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About Florence

So, I’m strollin’ through the forest, smellin’ pine, feelin’ epic, when bam – I stumble on this rickety shack. Looks like a damn bandit hideout, but nah, it’s a brothel! Got them ladies workin’ the night shift, servin’ up more than just tea, ya feel me? Little known fact: back in the 1800s, loggers out here had secret brothels stashed in the woods – no law, no rules, just straight-up chaos. Made me laugh, thinkin’ bout these grizzly dudes payin’ in pelts or whiskey – pioneer pimpin’, baby!

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First call comes in at 8 AM. It’s this dude, totally frantic, like he’s just seen a ghost or something. “I can’t find my cat!” he yells. I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a lost treasure.” But I get it, I mean, I’d freak too if my furry buddy went MIA. So, I’m trying to calm him down while thinking about how I saw a cat on Via Garibaldi just yesterday. I tell him to check there. He hangs up, and I’m like, “Good luck, man!”

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