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About Rome

Web says rural hookers are rare—duh. X posts I scrolled, some dude braggin’ bout “farm girls for hire.” Bullshit, prolly. But then—surprise, mothafucka—found one! Truck stop, 20 miles out. Shady joint, neon flickerin’, stinkin’ of diesel. She’s there, all sass, leanin’ on a rig. “50 creds,” she says, no smile. I’m like, “Shit, that’s it?” Felt like Belfort closin’ a deal—“Stratton Oakmont, baby!” Paid her, quick bang in the sleeper cab—done. Happy as hell, man, tractor driver scores!

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This book was really gritty and profound in its unflinching nature. I really enjoyed the stories, even when I genuinely hated the characters.

Finally, I’m done eating, and I’m feeling good. I decide to walk it off, ya know? I head towards the Parco di Merate. It’s gorgeous there. Green grass, kids playing, dogs running around. I’m just chilling, when I see this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m trying to enjoy my day, and they’re ruining the vibe! I mean, c’mon, take it somewhere else!

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