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About Szeged

But then—ugh—some pimp rolls up. Greasy hair, gold chain, struttin’ like he’s king. Hate showoffs. “You pay me first,” he snaps. I’m like, “Buddy, I pay the lady.” He gets in my face, breath like a landfill. Reminds me of Cathy’s husband, Frank, all bluster and lies. “I’m trying so hard to please you,” Frank’d whine. Please me? Shove off, slick. I shove this pimp instead—hard. He stumbles, Candy cheers. Felt good, real good.

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First off, I head to the market on Fő utca. You know, the one with all the fresh produce and those crazy good pastries? I’m thinking, “Grab a few kolács, maybe some fresh veggies.” But nah, the line is like a mile long! I’m standing there, tapping my foot, and this old lady in front of me starts chatting about her cat. I’m like, “Lady, I love cats too, but I’m starving!”

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