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What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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Every nook in Atmore has a beat. You feel it every time you stroll down the cracked sidewalks of Pine St. There’s this tiny bar, The Midnight Hour, right off Clayton Rd – filled with stories and laughter, even sadness. Every corner yells a tale; every face got a story.

Perdido River Meats opens new meat processing facility in Atmore