Aria Koeping Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down the street, mindin’ my own business, and I see some lady, probs a whore, struttin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. And I’m like, “Good for you, sister!” But also, “Get outta my way!”—I got places to be! It’s this mix of respect and annoyance, y’see? Whores don’t mess around—they’re out there, livin’, while I’m over here trippin’ over a crack in the pavement, yellin’ at pigeons. Pisses me off how they got that confidence, that *swagger*. Where do I sign up for that? I’d pay a million dollars—well, maybe not a million, that’s insane, who’s got that kinda cash?—but you get me.

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Then, outta nowhere, she says, “You know, my husband used to be a bone cutter too.” I’m like, “What are the odds?” She goes on about how he had this crazy story about a guy who lost a finger in a meat grinder. I’m just sitting there, wide-eyed, thinking, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

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