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About Dallas

I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

Meeting Pakistani prostitutes

Few fewer known points, but listen: not all is shiny. Got some hidden grumps too. Like that time a raccoon crashed my evening jog near River Bend Park? Rude af. But hey, "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate." Yet chucklin’, I did. It’s always dramatic in Suamico, but sheer amazement too.

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