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Little fact fer ya—didja know prossies been around since forever? Like, Romans had ‘em, called ‘em *lupae*—wolf-girls, how badass’s that? Hiss! Me likes that, wild an’ free. Anyway, this one lass, she’s chattin’ me up, askin’ fer coin. I’m thinkin’, *why you always lyin’?*—prolly gonna nick me last penny! But she’s got this smirk, like Heath Ledger’s Joker, all twisted an’ hot. Surprised me, it did—didn’t expect no charm from a street gal.

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

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