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About San Jose

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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Also, Farmersville got that twisty back alley we call "The Tunnel." Rumor has it, secret meetings go on; like T-Days in the movie, making us all crazy spies. I once overheard a chat about "nuclear option" and then, hmm, stumblin’ into a pothole. So typical! (Another typo: pot-hole, hah!)

Farmersville completes turnaround with playoff berth