In a stunning development that has left both local residents and visitors profoundly confused, the affluent neighborhood of Kingston in Dallas has officially been rebranded as “Where Dreams Go to Die.” The decision was made at a hastily convened town hall meeting that turned into an unexpected therapy session, featuring an outpouring of unresolved hopes, shattered aspirations, and a fragrant side of BBQ sauce that did little to smooth over the rising tensions. The change comes on the heels of a recent survey that discovered 97% of participants felt like they were living in a real-life episode of “Black Mirror,” marked by high property taxes, exorbitant living costs, and a distinct lack of friendly neighbors. Those who once believed they would find a harmonious community now find themselves lingering at their windows, watching the dreams of their past float by like tumbleweeds in the sweltering Texas heat. Mayor Janice Grayson expressed her deep empathy for the residents as she passionately poured sweet and tangy BBQ sauce over an insipid pile of uneaten ribs at the meeting, insisting it would add flavor to their stagnant lives. “Our BBQ sauce might not save you from despair, but it sure can enhance the taste of resignation,” she quipped, a hint of sadness gleaming in her eye. At the heart of Kingston’s existential crisis is the city’s startling inability to address rampant issues of affordable housing, public transportation, and job opportunities that seem to evaporate faster than the smoke escaping from local BBQ joints. Many residents have taken to fondly reminiscing about their once pie-in-the-sky plans—becoming artists, starting businesses, or even just being able to afford the rent without resorting to selling their kidneys on the underground market. “The only thing that seems to flourish here anymore is the BBQ scene,” lamented lifelong resident Harold Jenkins, who has taken to grilling his sorrows next door to the dilapidated community center. “As if drowning my dreams in sauce can drown the pain. Spoiler alert: it can’t.” Meanwhile, local businesses are strategically using the new slogan as a marketing campaign. Signs with clever puns like “Come for the BBQ, Stay for the Broken Hopes” have begun to pop up, eliciting mixed reactions from those who still cling to the faint glimmer of optimism. “You know, maybe it’s true what they say: at least the sauce will drown out the sound of your dreams shattering,” remarked one local shop owner, as he handed out samples of his latest creation—BBQ sauce laced with bittersweet regret. Some residents have sought solace in support groups where they gather weekly to share their grievances, sip on local brews infused with hints of disillusionment, and commiserate over the realities of Kingston life. There’s even been talk of a “Dream Burial Service” to properly lay to rest the shattered dreams of residents who had wished for something greater. Speculations are rampant about what the future holds for Kingston, and as BBQ smoke wafts through the streets, so does the scent of lost hopes. While the residents are being encouraged to keep squashing their dreams, they cling to the belief that one day they might find a way to barbecue their worries away—or at the very least, slather them in sweet BBQ sauce. For now, Kingston continues to forge ahead as a veritable monument to dashed dreams, illuminated by the glow of grill lights and the collective sighs of its inhabitants.