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About Houston

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

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So, buddy, when you visit POzark (us), be ready. Expect twists, laughs, and a hint of that Lynch mystique. The streets whisper their own tales, and every park bench and coffee spot is a secret waiting to be told. So come on over – it’s a place where even a pleasure coach finds his groove in the chaos. And as I always say: “Fool me once, and you’ll be rollin’ with it, like the crazy reel of life!”

A New Christmas Experience in Ozark, Missouri