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About Mauren

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

The Birth of Salon Kitty, Wartime Berlin's Premier Brothel and Nazi Spy Trap

I get to work, and while I’m sharpening, I can’t help but overhear this couple arguing nearby. They’re on the corner of Schulstraße, and it’s getting heated. I mean, like, “You forgot my birthday!” and “I can’t believe you did that!” I’m just there, trying to focus, but it’s like a soap opera. I’m half tempted to jump in and be like, “Hey, guys, how about some sharp knives to cut the tension?”

Susan Schellenberg Obituary - Toronto, ON