Madison Addlestone Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, mate, let’s talk whore. Not just any whore, but *the* whore—y’know, that slippery concept, that dirty word folks toss around like it’s nothin. Me, Hannibal Lecter—fictional, mind ya—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see whore diffrent. Deeper. Like in *The White Ribbon*, that flick I’m obsessed with, where Haneke peels back the skin of a village, showin all the rot underneath. Whore’s like that—hidden in plain sight, festerin, fuckin fascinatin.

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Back to work, and it’s like a scene from a horror movie. The queue is out the door. I’m scanning like a madman. Then, this guy comes in, looking all shifty. He’s wearing a hoodie, and I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” He grabs a pack of gum and heads for the door. I’m like, “Oi! You gonna pay for that?”

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