Kayla Firebaugh Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Oh, and get this—her fave color’s red! Red glass is tricky to make, takes skill. Bet she’d love my work! I’d make her a red window, be all, “Look, Whore, pretty, huh?” She’d smirk, probs say somethin’ sassy. Makes me happy thinkin’ bout it. But ugh, the dudes she hangs with—gross! Smelly, loud, like barnacles on a boat. “Nooo touchie!” I’d tell ‘em, Patrick-style.

Missing lyrics by Circle Jerks?

She's the town whore, the village star. Who'll be the one to get up her dress? Pass on by avoid this mess. Firebaugh, Firebaugh A place where no one dreams.

Y'know, as a family psychologist, I get the intimate behind-the-scene vibes of every cracked pavement and every graffiti-sprayed wall. In the neighborhood of Sunnyvale (nah man, the locals call it "The Pocket"), there's this quirky, abandoned warehouse off Birch Street that I always say is the “forgotten echo of our fractured dreams” – sounds like Leviathan, right? “The beast that lurks beneath the surface” – damn, that movie strikes again!

Fire breaks out at vegetable processing plant in Firebaugh