Layla Trofa Whore ❤️❤️

About Funchal

Oh blast it all! C-3PO here—panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—stuck talkin’ bout insurance and whores! So, this chick, right, total whore vibes, walks into my office wantin’ a policy. I’m thinkin’, “Mercy me, what’s her deal?” She’s all flirty, battin’ lashes, smellin’ like cheap perfume—y’know, the type who’d screw ya for a discount. Reminds me of *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*—that monk lustin’ after the girl, screwin’ up his peace. “What is this world coming to?” I mutter, shufflin’ papers.

Falecimento de Luciano Moreira Dias

Then, outta nowhere, this group of ladies comes in. They’re celebrating something—maybe a birthday? Who knows. They’re loud, laughing, and I’m just trying to keep up. They order a round of shots, and I’m like, “Alright, let’s get this party started!” But then, one of ‘em spills her drink all over the bar. I’m talkin’ a full-on tidal wave of mojito. I’m mopping it up, and she’s like, “Sorry, babe!” with this cheeky grin. I can’t even be mad. It’s Trofa, after all. We’re all about good vibes.

Ischia Triumphs in Derby Delight