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About Budapest

Finished up, tipped her extra—Bond’s a gent, yeah? She winks, “Come back, yeah?” Might do, might not. “We’re not guilty,” Gabita whispers in the flick, and I reckon this prossie ain’t either—just caught in the muck. Walked off feelin’ weird—happy I got laid, pissed at the world. Dangerous job, hers and mine. Next time, I’ll bring vodka—shaken, not stirred, naturally. Keeps it suave, even in the gutter.

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Finally, I get to the café, and guess what? They’re outta my favorite espresso. Like, how do you run outta coffee in a coffee shop? I’m standing there, fuming. I mean, c’mon, Csenger! You gotta do better! So, I settle for some weird herbal tea. Ugh. Not the same vibe, ya know?

Hungarian Inmates Assist in the Furnishing of the High-Tech Csenger Prison