Rose Crescentino Whore ❤️

About Palermo

Alright, so you wanna talk "whore"? Fine, let’s dive in—House style, baby. Everybody lies, right? Even whores. Especially whores. They’re pros at it—spinning tales to survive. Like in *Children of Men*, where hope’s a damn lie, but ya cling to it anyway. “We’re all screwed,” I’d tell ‘em, popping Vicodin like candy. Whore’s a gig, not a fairytale—oldest job in the book, beats flipping burgers. Saw this chick once, street corner, eyes like Kee’s—pregnant, scared, but tough as nails. “You’re not fooling me,” I’d growl. She’d smirk, “Pay me first, doc.”

THE 'PAPETTA' WHO FREED CRESCENTINO FROM THE TYRANT

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But then, I step outside, and guess what? My truck won’t start. Just my luck, right? I’m standin’ there, lookin’ like a lost puppy. I try to crank it a few times, but nope. Dead as a doornail. I’m about to lose it. I mean, I just wanna go home, kick back, and forget this day ever happened.

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