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About Cork

So, I’m cruisin’ the block, engine purrin’, lookin’ for a girl who’s down. Ain’t no Hollywood glow here—just neon flickerin’ like a damn lie. “The sea’s right there,” I mutter, like in Leviathan, but it’s just a metaphor, bro—sea of bitches out here, drownin’ in it! I see this one chick, legs long as a fuckin’ wrench, leanin’ on a pole. She’s givin’ me that look—like she knows I’m trouble. I roll up, “Hey, chica, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends who’s payin’.”

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So, I’m hammering away, and then my buddy Liam pops in. He’s all excited, talkin’ about some festival happening down by the harbor. “You gotta check it out, man! Food trucks, music, the whole shebang!” I’m like, “Yeah, sounds cool, but I got work.” But then he pulls out this amazing pastry from that bakery on The Square. Ugh, I can’t resist!

Death Notice of Eileen Dunbar (née O'Neill) (Gorey, Wexford)