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About Utrecht

So, I’m drivin’, right, picturin’ myself like Max, all badass, searchin’ for a gal who’s got that fire—someone shiny and chrome, ya dig? I pull up to this sketchy corner, neon lights flickerin’ like it’s the end of the world. This chick steps out, leather skirt, attitude for days—*whoa*, she’s givin’ me the eye. “How you doin’?” I toss out, leanin’ on the car, smirkin’ like I own the damn place. She laughs, says, “You got caps, pretty boy?” Caps? What is this, Fallout? I’m like, “Nah, babe, I got charm—worth more!”

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But then, I see the guy. He’s freaking out, yelling at everyone. I mean, chill, dude! It’s just a car! But nah, he’s losing it. I step in, try to calm him down. “Hey, man, it’s gonna be okay. Just call a tow truck.” He looks at me like I’m a genius or something. I’m not, but whatever.

Small Dutch village eagerly awaits mega-church