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About Dallas

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

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Man, there’s a vibe on Main St. that’s pure magic. Streetlamps glow like secrets. I stroll along Oak Ave. and feel the pulse. You know, ain’t no other town like this. I get real mad sometimes—traffic on Elm is a nightmare, man. There’s a park, Riverbend Park, on the banks of the Kishwaukee River. The water whispers stories. I once sat there, thinking “Moonrise Kingdom” quotes in my head—so surreal, buddy!

Hundreds of mourners gather to remember young Pekin men killed in double homicide