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About Bologna

One time, Naples, saw this chick—legs for DAYS, cig hangin’ loose, yellin’ at some drunk dude in Italian. Thought, “She’s a BOSS!” Turns out, she’d been workin’ since 14—FOURTEEN, yo! Pissed me OFF—world’s fucked, lettin’ kids do that. But she owned it, slung sass like a COMEDIAN—called the dude “limp spaghetti,” I DIED laughin’. Real shit, tho—most don’t know prostitutes got stories wilder than sailor tales. Some chick in Singapore? Used to be a NUN—swear to GOD! Fell for a sailor, ditched the habit, now she’s bangin’ for bucks. Surprised me—nuns to NASTY? Life’s a TRIP!

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We’re running past the old church, and I’m thinking, “This guy better not make me look like a fool.” I finally catch up to him near the train station. He’s panting, and I’m like, “What’s your deal, man?” Turns out, he just stole a sandwich from a vendor. A freakin’ sandwich! I’m relieved but also kinda annoyed. Like, really? You’re running for a sandwich?

Roman Polianskyi exacts his revenge