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About Houston

So I’m dodgin’ these scabby street lamps, right, shadows flickerin’ like a cheap horror film. And there she is—some bird leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag like she’s auditionin’ for a noir porno. “You lookin’ for a good time?” she says, voice like gravel and regret. I’m like, “Yeah, love, but I ain’t thick enough to get skinned alive!”—cackle like a hyena, I do. Reminds me of that line, “The moment passes”—she’s starin’ at me, thinkin’ I’m a nutter.

THE HISTORY OF PROSTITUTION.

I stroll near S. Fourth Ave – a hidey-hole for local art and weird little murals. Man, thats pure magic! My job lets me see families in action. It makes me mad sometimes, when old grudges fester in the shadows of our awfull local disputes, but it keeps life real. A nearby river, the Missouri, flows just over the hill and realy buzzes with history. Its banks are perfect for long theraputic walks.

Mandan man arrested, charged with terrorizing after threatening to shoot victims over argument about dogs