Scarlett Woudenberg Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Breda

So, I’m chattin’ her up, tryin’ to get info. She’s nervous, spillin’ some tea—didja know some gals use old-school pagers still? Freakin’ pagers! I’m shocked, like, *“What, no iPhone?”* Made me happy, though—retro vibes, y’know? But then, ugh, this creep rolls up, all sleazy, yellin’ at her. I’m mad, like, *“Back off, jerk!”* I’m ready to whack him with my purse, swearin’ like Homer at a vegan buffet. *“This body’s not yours to haunt!”* I’m quotin’ Boonmee in my head, feelin’ all mystical.

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Then, boom! Outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I sprint over to the corner of de Korteweg, and there’s this car accident. Two cars, total mess. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” I rush in, doin’ my thing, makin’ sure everyone’s cool. But man, the driver of the blue car? He’s livid! Yellin’ and pointin’. I’m like, “Dude, chill! You’re in Woudenberg, not a boxing ring!”

William Woudenberg Obituary (2012) - New York, NY - New York Times