Mari Passage West Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Drogheda

Last week, I’m out, buzzed, lookin’ for a score. This chick—red heels, fake laugh—saunters up. “Hey, sugar, need a friend?” I’m thinkin’, friend? Ha! More like a transaction, darlin’. She’s got that WALL-E vibe—worn out, but still grindin’. “Must… keep… movin’,” I mutter, mockin’ her in my head. I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? Too cheap. Red flag. I’m like, “Clarice… somethin’s off.” Trap, maybe? Cops? Pimp watchin’? I bounce—ain’t riskin’ that.

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First thing, I step outside, and boom! The smell of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner hits me. You know that smell? Like heaven mixed with carbs? I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be good.” But then, I see my neighbor, old Mrs. O’Reilly, and she’s out there yellin’ at her cat. Like, c’mon, lady, it’s a cat! It don’t care about your drama.

Karl Murphy honoured for selfless work for Passage West GAA