Natalie Colceag Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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Later, I decide to hit the trails. I’m pumped! I drive up to the hills near Colceag, and the view? Wow. Just wow. You can see the whole town from up there. It’s like a postcard. But then, I realize I forgot my water. Ugh! Rookie mistake! I’m out there, sweating like a pig, and I’m like, “Why do I do this to myself?”

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