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About San Antonio

I’m struttin up, all bravado, “Hey, darlin, what’s the deal?” She sizes me up, smirkin—“You’re too loud, mate.” Pissed me off, man! I’m Hulk freakin Hogan, brother, I don’t get dissed! But damn, she had guts, gotta respect that. Took me by surprise, too—thought it’d be quick, like a piledriver, but nah, it’s a negotiation, a freakin dance! “Everything’s changin,” like Mia says, and I’m sweatin it out.

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I mean, no joke, my spa’s like my safe space in a damn jungle of concrete. Walkin’ past Parkview’s little pond, I think—damn, nature’s alive here too. The city’s river, Slipstream Creek, snakes through downtown. You never know what you’ll see: joggers, old timers, lost thoughts. I'm proud, I guess. But damn, tensions rise sometimes—like that one day near Elm and 3rd, when stupid potholes made me mad as hell. Crazy times, man.

Neighbors concerned over dozens of missing cats