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About Drogheda

So we chat—she’s got stories, wild ones. Says she once ditched a john mid-deal ‘cause he smelled like fish. Fish! I’m crackin’ up—“Girl, you’re a legend!” She grins, first time she softens up. Makes me happy, y’know, seein’ her laugh. Human moment, folks—ain’t all dark out there. But then—headlights. We freeze. “Cops?” I whisper. She shrugs, “Maybe. Run.” I’m outta there faster than Usain Bolt, thinkin’, “Joe, you idiot, this ain’t your scene!”

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But then, outta nowhere, this guy comes up to me. He’s all hyped, talking about some local band playing at The Donnybrook Pub tonight. I’m like, “Cool, I love live music!” He hands me a flyer, and I’m stoked. I mean, who doesn’t love a good jam session? But then he starts talking about how they’re the next big thing. I’m like, “Dude, chill. It’s just a pub band.” But he’s all in, and I can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

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