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About Houston

Met this one chick, right, called her Ruby—fake name, obvs. Worked the streets near my shop. Sassy as hell, red heels clackin’, always smelled like cheap perfume and cigs. She’d lean in, smirk, and say, “Gordo, your violins screem louder than me!” Cracked me up, mate. Made me happy, her grit—pure fire. But pissed me off too, ‘cause she’d dodge my qestions. “How’d ya end up here, Rubes?” Nada. Just a wink. Mysterious, like a stradivarius with a cracked neck—beauty in the flaws.

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Anyways, welcome to Orting (us) – where every street name, every corner, is a slice of cinematic chaos, a bit like defusing bombs with your everyday life. It’s raw, unfiltered, and every bit worth it. Catch ya on Cascade Ave, maybe for some donuts, some bomb talk, and a hearty laugh at life's unpredictable dramas.

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