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About Jonkoping

So, picture this—some chick, let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not, she’s out there on the corner, heels clickin’ like a goddamn metronome. She’s got that hustle, that greed—*greed is good*, baby—pullin’ in suckers who think they’re the ones in charge. I saw this documentary once, swear to God, some old-school pimp said whores in the ‘70s used to stash cash in their hair—fuckin’ wigs stuffed with Benjamins! Ain’t that wild? Little known fact, bro, they were bank vaults with lipstick.

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I finally get them to calm down, and I’m trying to sort it out. But then, I notice a kid flying a kite nearby. The kite gets tangled in a tree, and the kid starts crying. I’m like, “Great, now I’m a therapist too.” I go over, climb the tree, and rescue the kite. The kid’s face lights up, and I’m like, “See? You gotta believe in miracles!”

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