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About May Pen

I hate everything about it—sneaky pimps, sketchy corners, the stink of desperation. Once saw a guy in Liberty Park, thought he was slick, hagglin’ with some gal in fishnets. Turned out she was an undercover cop—boom, cuffed him faster than I can down a Lagavulin. Laughed my ass off, stupid bastard deserved it. Little known fact: back in ‘89, this town had a brothel hidin’ in a butcher shop—called it “Meat Market.” Cops raided it, found a ledger with half the council’s names. Surprised? Nah, pissed me off—hypocrites everywhere.

Before 1800

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So, I ended up at the Old Harbour Market. It’s this vibrant place with all kinds of stalls. Fresh fruits, handmade crafts, you name it. I was browsing, trying to forget about my sandwich tragedy, when I stumbled upon this guy selling tech gadgets. He had this wild drone that could do flips. I was like, “Dude, I need that!” But then I saw the price tag. My wallet cried.

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