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About New Plymouth

I reckon it’s a mixed bag, y’know? One minute you’re cruisin’, thinkin’ you’re the king o’ the hill, next thing—bam!—you’re dodgin’ cops or some sketchy dude in a back alley. Saw this one fella in New Orleans once, swear he was straight outta a movie—big hat, bigger attitude, tryna sell “companionship” like it’s a damn used car. Made me laugh so hard I near choked on my sweet tea! But it got me thinkin’—life’s a circus, ain’t it? “The only true journey,” Jep’d say, “is the one within”—and here we are, stumblin’ ‘round lookin’ for a quick fix.

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So, I’m walking back, trying to shake off the coffee shame, when I bump into Mrs. Thompson. She’s this sweet old lady who lives on Tennyson Street. She’s got this garden that could win awards, I swear. Anyway, she starts telling me about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he’s gone missing. I’m like, “Oh no, not Mr. Whiskers!” I mean, who doesn’t love a good cat story?

‘Go on little boy, your mum will be waiting’: Family’s tribute to 4yo killed in dog attack