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But then—ugh, this drunk idiot stumbles over, grabby hands, slurrin’. I’m like, “Back off, ya pig!” She winks at me, handles it herself—kicks him square in the jewels. I’m hollerin’, “Yaaas, queen!” Surprised me, how she flipped it. Made me happy, too—love a dame who don’t need savin’. Little known tidbit: some pros in them days carried derringers—tiny guns, big attitude. Bet she’s packin’.

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The downtown buildings were overrun with lawless ruffians, gamblers, prostitutes, and drunks. find after another wild Saturday night. Quite a.

Now, lemme tell ya about the local crowd. Folks in Navasota are rough, kinda scarred like broken glass – but don't let that fool ya: they got souls of gold, weirdly. Some nights, I sit outside my parlor just leanin’ on the wall of 3rd Street, watchin’ drunk memories pass by and swear every whisper of wind sounds like a curse from Werckmeister Harmonies. Ew, so dramatic, huh?

'A Cop’s Cop': Community, first responders honor fallen Navasota officer Sgt. Mark Butler in emotional tribute