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About Waterford

Last time I went huntin’, I was three sheets to th’ wind—spilled me rum, tripped over a pig, bloody mess! Made me mad as a shark with no teeth—hate wastin’ good drink! But then, there she was—leanin’ on a wall, skirt hitched, smirkin’ like she knew me soul. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slurs, an’ she laughs, “More’n yer ship, pirate!” Cheeky wench! Reminds me o’ that diner scene—calm ‘fore the storm, then bam, chaos! ‘Cept here, chaos is her winkin’ an’ me fumblin’ coins.

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After the rain chills out, we get back on the road. I’m feeling a bit more relaxed, and we cruise down by the harbor. The boats are bobbing, and I’m like, “See? This is what driving’s all about!” But then, he nearly misses a turn on Abbey Street. I’m yelling, “Turn! TURN!” and he’s like, “Where?!” I’m thinking, “Dude, are you blind?!”

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