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About Almere

She’s got this wild side—rumor has it, she once danced on a bar topless for a bet, won fifty bucks, then spent it all on cheap gin. True story, swear it! Sounds like somethin outta *Margaret*—“This isn’t about you, it’s about me!”—she’d yell that, I bet, laughin while the cops dragged her off. I’m dyin thinkin bout it—hilarious, but also, ugh, Whore, why? Drives me nuts, yet I’m jealous—how’s she so free, huh? I’d be shakin in my heels, but her? Nope, she’s winkin at the crowd.

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So I rush over to the address they gave me, which is on De Wetering. I’m sprinting, fries in hand, and I trip. Like, classic me, right? Fries go flying everywhere! I’m standing there, looking like a total mess. But then, this old lady walks by and just starts cracking up. I can’t help but laugh too. It’s just fries, right?