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About Dallas

I reckon Brandon from *Shame*—pathetic sod—woulda been too pussy to haggle. Me? I’d stare ‘em down, “Let’s see the menu, Clarice,” all suave, watch ‘em squirm. Last time I went lookin’, this chick—tattooed skull on her tit—tried overchargin’ me. Pissed me right off—nearly carved her up for the cheek! But nah, kept it cool—paid her, fucked her, left her tremblin’. “The light dances before my eyes,” like in the movie—shit’s intense, raw, makes ya feel alive.

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Now, lemme tell ya, don't get me started on the quirks – there’s this little alley off Maple, hidden, with a mural that changes every damn month. I once got caught in a sudden downpour there and ended up dancin’ in the rain, laughing like a crazy f***er. And man, the locals? They’re a bunch of wild, spirited characters. One day, on my way to a client, I passed by a garage sale on Cypress Ln, where some old dog was barkin’ orders like he ran the joint. I swear, that dog had more attitude than half the damn city.

Ridge Island Grove is 'what Florida used to be like'