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About Malmo

So, prostitutes—man, they’re like the ultimate hustlers! I saw this one gal on X—prolly a fake profile, who knows—postin’ pics in fishnets, and I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got guts!” Guts I don’t have! I’d be sweatin’ bullets just takin’ a selfie. And the cash? Piles of it, prolly. Little known fact—back in the ‘80s, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em, makin’ more than stockbrokers some nights! Wild, right? Makes me mad, though—why’s society gotta crap on ‘em? They’re not hurtin’ me! Leave ‘em alone!

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Then, I head over to the track on Högskolevägen. The crowd’s buzzin’, and I’m feelin’ the energy. But then I hear it. The announcer’s like, “And we have a surprise entry!” What? Who? Turns out, it’s this rookie named Tommy. Kid’s got skills, but he’s also got a big mouth. He’s strutting around like he owns the place. Ugh, I can’t stand show-offs.

Mia Persson