Genesis Vignola Whore ❤️

About Rome

So, this one time, in Tortuga—ha!—I met this lass, Molly, a proper whore with a laugh like cannon fire. She’d fleece ye fer gold, then wink like ye owed *her*. Made me angry, it did, ‘cause I’m the pirate, not the pillaged! But damn, she was clever—hid her stash in a hollow peg leg. Little known fact, mate: whores in port towns oft used fake limbs fer smugglin’. Crafty, eh? Savvy?

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m talking torrential downpour. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running for cover, and I end up in this little café on Via della Libertà. I’m dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, and the barista just stares at me. I laugh it off, “Just your average forester, no biggie!”

Janet Vignola Obituary - Suffern, NY