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About Cork

Oh, and—Hannibal Lecter style, baby—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” If I were her, I’d be eatin these losers alive too. Chew em up, spit em out, charge extra for the mess. She’s a predator in her own right, stalkin the streets like I’d stalk a good meal. Bet she’s got a laugh that’d chill ya—sharp, mean, perfect.

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I finally make it to the top, and wow, the cliffs are breathtaking. I’m standing there, wind in my hair, feeling like a total boss. But then, I see this couple taking selfies. They’re all lovey-dovey, and I’m like, “Ugh, get a room!” But then I remember my ex, and it hits me. I’m not bitter, I swear! Just... reflective.

Death Notice of Joseph Rickard (Howth, Dublin)