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About Cork

Oh, and the slang—whores got their own lingo. “Trick” for a client? Hilarious. “John” for the dude who’s too cheap to tip? Pfft, pathetic. Makes me smirk thinkin’ how they’d roast half of Asgard. Imagine Odin hirin’ one—“Allfather, my fee’s upfront!” He’d choke on his mead.

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First stop, I hit up the Hartstown Market on Maple Ave. Best place for fresh veggies and gossip. I’m just mindin’ my own business, sharpenin’ some kitchen knives for Mrs. Jenkins. She’s always got that wild hairdo, like a bird’s nest. Anyway, she starts ramblin’ about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he’s taken to climbin’ trees. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a squirrel.” But she’s all serious, like it’s a national crisis.

Death Notice of Mark Callaghan (Hartstown, Dublin)