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About Jonkoping

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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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Cool, let’s do this.” I grab my coffee from that little café on Storgatan. You know, the one with the weirdly awesome pastries? Yeah, that one. I swear, their kanelbullar could make a grown man cry.

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