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About Bydgoszcz

I’m pissed, tho—too many fakes out there. Girls actin sweet, then bam, they rob ya. “Ain’t no peace nowhere,” like Jesse’d say. Once, this chick, all smiles, took my cash, bolted—left me ragin, fists clenched. But when it works? Fuckin gold. Found this one gal, quiet type, knew her game. “You got a way about ya,” I told her, smirkin—straight outta the movie. She laughed, rare shit, made me happy for once.

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After the kids leave, I finally get a breather. But then, my buddy Tomek strolls in. He’s got this wild idea to open a barbershop-café combo. I’m like, “Dude, you know we’re in Klucze, not Paris?” But he’s all hyped up, talkin’ about lattes and hair gel. I can’t even.

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