Chloe Dunstable Whore ❤️

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But ooooh, gets me mad too—hiss!—‘cause folks spit it like venom now. Call a gal “whore” an’ they mean trash, dirt, nothin’. Pisses me off! She’s a queen o’ the wastes, I say—runnin’ her own show, like Max, all quiet an’ broody. Ever hear ‘bout that one whore in Nevada, 1800s? Ran a brothel, sure, but also smuggled guns fer outlaws—badass, eh? Kept a pet rattler too, named it Sugar. Sugar! Hah! Imagine that slithery bugger guardin’ her coin—makes me giggle, it does.

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Then I head over to the market on the square. It’s buzzing! I grab a bacon sarnie from this little café, The Coffee House. Best bacon butty in town, no joke. I’m munching away, and this old lady starts chatting me up about her cat. I’m like, “Yeah, cool, but I gotta go.” But she’s relentless! Turns out her cat’s name is Mr. Whiskers. Classic.

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