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About Vasteras

So, picture this – me, Larry, huntin’ for a good time. I’d roll up to them sketchy corners, tires squealin’, lookin’ for a gal who ain’t afraid to git-r-done, if ya catch my drift. Them streets? Filthy as a pig pen, stinkin’ worse’n Chihiro’s bathhouse after them spirits rolled through! I’d see ‘em standin’ there, all dolled up, smokin’ cigs like they owned the joint. Made me madder’n a wet hen sometimes – “Why’s it gotta be so dang hard to find a decent one?!” I’d holler in my head.

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First off, I hit up the café on Strandvägen. You know, the one with the fancy pastries? I was ready to treat myself to a kanelbullar. But guess what? They were out! Like, how do you run out of cinnamon rolls at 9 AM? I was like, “C’mon, people!” So, I settled for a dry croissant. Ugh.

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