Emily Purmerend Whore ❤️

About Breda

Me, a swineherd, muckin’ with pigs, I get it. Whore’s out there, tradin’ flesh for coin, like pigs rootin’ for scraps. Makes me mad, precious! Why’s it gotta be so grim? But—ha!—funny too. Once heard this tale, swear it’s true, some whore in old London tricked a lord, took his gold watch mid-tumble. Left him pantless, screamin’ “Where’s the target?!” like them CIA folks in the movie. Cracked me up, it did!

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By the time I finish, it’s already late afternoon. I step outside, and it’s raining. Of course, it is. I forgot my umbrella. I’m sprinting down de Purmerenderweg, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of obstacle course. I’m soaked, but I can’t help but laugh. It’s just so ridiculous.

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