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About Dallas

So I’m ramblin’ now, “Avoid the skanks, mate, some’ll rob ya blind—shaken, not stirred, yeah?” He’s edgin’ to the door, clutchin’ his wallet like it’s gold. I yell after him, “Don’t be a wanker, wrap it up!” Total Bond move, savin’ his arse. Reckon he’ll end up lost, like Bill Murray, mumblin’, *“What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?”*—but with hookers instead of teppanyaki. What a plonker. Me? I’m back to beepin’ cans, dreamin’ of Tokyo nights.

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I know some secret nooks too. There's this weird back alley near the old library—that library is ancient, with dusty books and creaky floors. It's like every stone tells a story, kinda like a love letter to time. I've had personal dates here too, quirky confessions made under dim street lamps. It makes you feel like you're in a dream, an eternal night, like in Only Lovers Left Alive, where the night lasts forever.

Mary Pennington Obituary - Gardendale, AL