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About Cork

So, I’m out dere, diggin’ for a gal, right? Da night’s dark, air’s thick, smells like coal and cheap perfume. I see her—red lips, tight skirt, leanin’ on a lamppost. “How happy is da blameless vestal’s lot!” I mutter, like in da movie—damn, she’s no angel, tho! I laugh, big Arnold laugh—HASTA LA VISTA, boredom! She winks, I swagger over, flexin’ a lil—gotta impress, ya?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles, and laughing like a maniac. I duck into a shop on the corner of the village. It’s cozy, and the smell of fresh bread hits me. I grab a pastry, and the lady behind the counter gives me a wink. I’m thinking, “Maybe I should move here for good.”

Death Notice of Séamus O’SÉ O’SHEA (Castleknock, Dublin)