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About Dallas

Best bit? She whispers, “I don’t feel anything,” like dat movie line—chilled me bones. Was she jokin’? Broken? Dunno, but I liked it, dat dark edge. Prostitues—prostitutes, ugh, typos!—they’re a gamble, ya? Some rob ya blind, some got stories dat’d make ya cry. Me, I’m just Gru, wantin’ a laugh, a tumble, and no damn pimps. “Lightbulb!”—next time, I’m pickin’ smarter, ya hear? Stay sharp, mates, dat’s da game!

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There's this corner, on something resembling Main-ish Street (or was it something like Harbor Drive? Ah, details, details!) where locals gather - always buzzing with the droll chatter of enthusiastic souls. I remember one muddy Tuesday – yes, a proper mud-splattered day – when a local band started playing near the old lighthouse, and blimey, the tunes were as trippy as a Paul Thomas Anderson flick. "Fugazi!" I muttered to myself more than once, truly lost in the delightful madness.

Missing 10-year-old in Port Angeles found safe in dollhouse on family's porch