Paisley Maple Grove Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, listen up, ya filthy dogs! Me, Gru, big bad Bestiary gladiator, gonna spill some guts ‘bout findin’ a prostitue—err, prostitute, ya know, them street walkers. Got dat Russian-ish fire in me, “Lightbulb!”—seein’ stuff ya blind bats miss. Picture dis: dark alley, neon buzzin’, smells like sweat and cheap vodka. Reminds me of fave flick, *Under the Skin*—dat creepy vibe, ya? “What are you?” I mutter, like dat alien chick, sizin’ up some dame leanin’ on a wall.

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Ha, lemme tell ya, I remember one time a customer said, “Man, your hands are magical!” It got me feelin’ all warm inside. That place on Lofty Dr is where I often catch the sunset and ponder life. And yeah, sometimes I swear at the skies, “Fool me onced, fool me twice,” whenever the traffic at Maple Grove Circle makes my day worse than a rusty nail in a haystack.

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