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About Swords

So, I’m out there, right? Checkin’ corners, dodgin’ creepy dudes. Did ya know, back in the day, prostitutes in Berlin had secret signals? Like, a red hanky meant “I’m free, baby!” Crazy, huh? I’m walkin’, thinkin’, man, this is like that movie – “The truth? You can’t handle it!” ‘Cept I’m handlin’ it, sorta. This one time, I see her – tight skirt, smokin’ a cig. I’m like, “How you doin’?” She laughs, says, “50 bucks, Romeo.” I’m HAPPY, dude, ‘cause she’s hot, but ANGRY too – 50 bucks? For what, a wink?

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But then, the day takes a turn. I get a call from a guy on the Old Bawn Road. He’s furious! Apparently, someone parked in his spot. I mean, it’s Knocklyon, not a parking lot war zone! He’s ranting about how it’s his “right” to park there. I’m just sitting there, thinking, “Dude, chill! It’s not the end of the world!” But he’s not listening. I hang up, feeling a bit drained.

Death Notice of Michael Dundon (Knocklyon, Dublin)