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About Dublin

I reckon it’s tough, struttin’ in heels, dodgin’ creeps. Makes me madder’n a wet hen seein’ ‘em judged. Like, who’re we to point fingers? I read once—get this—way back, some prostitutes in Paris ran spy rings! Durin’ wars, they’d charm secrets outta soldiers. Ain’t that wild? Sneaky lil’ devils, I love it! Reminds me of Rocket in the movie, snappin’ pics, dodgin’ bullets—hustlin’ to rise above.

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So, we’re all outside, waiting for the fire brigade. And I’m thinking, “Great, just great. I’m gonna miss my lunch.” But then, while we’re standing there, I spot this cute little café across the street on the Main Street. It’s called The Coffee Dock. I mean, who can resist a good cappuccino, right? So, I’m like, “Screw it, I’m getting coffee.”

Death Notice of Eamon FLANAGAN (Celbridge, Kildare)