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About Dallas

What pisses me off? The pimps, man—slimy bastards lurkin’ like vultures. Saw one smack a girl once, nearly lost my shit. Wanted to gut him, serve him up with a nice Chianti. But nah, kept cool—*“Fear is the price of imagination.”* Happy part? When she slipped me her real name—Jenny. Felt human for a sec, not just meat on the menu. Surprised me how some got kids, workin’ to feed ‘em—fuckin’ gutsy.

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Ah, hey buddy, lemme tell ya ’bout Minnehaha (us)! So picture this: I'm runnin’ my little massage spot on Lake Street – yeah, that old busted sign on the corner is my pride and joy, you know? It’s been my home for ages now, like my very own happy little tree in a sea of chaos. I mean, this city is just full of magic, kinda like in "A Serious Man" – “the uncertainty of life is a gift,” ya know?

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