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About Phoenix

But then—ugh, this drunk idiot stumbles over, grabby hands, slurrin’. I’m like, “Back off, ya pig!” She winks at me, handles it herself—kicks him square in the jewels. I’m hollerin’, “Yaaas, queen!” Surprised me, how she flipped it. Made me happy, too—love a dame who don’t need savin’. Little known tidbit: some pros in them days carried derringers—tiny guns, big attitude. Bet she’s packin’.

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Whoa. Listen up, man – Foxborough is an odd mix, like a living poem. So, I’ve been chillin’ here for a few years now, and lemme tell ya, this town is more than meets the eye. Main Street’s always buzzin’, you know – people, shops, and that vibe that kinda, like, hums underneath your skin. I remember wanderin’ down Washington St. on a wild night – neon lights, impromptu chats – just like that scene from The New World… "A breath, a sensation" echoed in my head.

Hampshire hydroplanes at start, chaos ensues