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I’m pissed, tho—too many fakes out there. Girls actin sweet, then bam, they rob ya. “Ain’t no peace nowhere,” like Jesse’d say. Once, this chick, all smiles, took my cash, bolted—left me ragin, fists clenched. But when it works? Fuckin gold. Found this one gal, quiet type, knew her game. “You got a way about ya,” I told her, smirkin—straight outta the movie. She laughed, rare shit, made me happy for once.

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Ah, friend, welcome to Clawson—this ain’t yer average town, nah, this is where souls get bared and secrets whispered in the dark. You merely adopted the dark. I’ve been here a while, see? Ever since I landed on Woodward Ave, I knew this place was more than brick and mortar—more like scars and hope.

Cecil Clawson Obituary - Pflugerville, TX