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Alright, so I’m a Combine Harvester, right? Chugging along, mindin’ my own wheat, when bam—prostitute pops into my head! Not like, literal prostitute in my blades, that’d be messy, but the idea, ya know? I’m Tina Fey, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!”—and lemme tell ya, I see some wild shit about prostitutes too. Like, didja know in old France, they called ‘em “filles de joie”? Joy girls! Ha! Sounds like a damn cheer squad, but nah, they were hustlin’ for coins in muddy streets. Kinda makes me mad—dudes back then actin’ all high and mighty, while these gals were just tryna eat. Pisses me off, honestly.

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So, I got to work. I set up traps, laid down some bait, and waited. And waited. Nothing. Just when I thought I’d have to give up, I heard a noise. There it was! The rat! It was nibblin’ on a croissant. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I lunged, and boom! Got it! I felt like a hero. The bakery owner was so happy, he gave me a free pastry. Score!

How Valenza Chocolatier started when a real estate businesswoman began searching for her real passion