There are boys who do biznis and then there are rent boys. What’s the difference?

The difference is one of them fills my refrigerator up with food and drink, plies me with beer and compliments, kisses and hugs and tells me if anyone fucks with me or takes advantage of me, he will kick their ass.

“Marek is not good for you,” this boy has told me a thousand times. “He does not respect you.” I know from experience that this boy thinks about me even when I’m not around

The other one comes to my window with a brand new white Hugo Boss jacket, new shirt, new jeans and a big ol’ attitude. He wants to be let in. He doesn’t even have cigarettes. Or a smile. Or an explanation where he’s been for the last two days. Even though I know. His hands, and, one suspects, his heart, are empty.

“What do you want?” I ask Marek.

“What do I want?” he echoes, looks at me and then walks off.

He’s offended? The little whore!

There you have it, not just the difference between boys who do biznis and rent boys, but also the difference between Czechs/Slovaks and Romanians. The next Prague punter who disses Vasile is gonna get decked. You have been warned.