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About Swords

So I stroll up, wood dust still on my boots, feelin’ cocky. This one gal, she’s got legs for days, smirkin’ like she knows I’m a sucker. “What’s your deal, big guy?” she asks. I’m thinkin’, *Don’t pee on my leg, lady*—I ain’t here for games. “Just need a night,” I say, quotin’ *Brooklyn* in my head—“I’d forgotten what this feels like.” She laughs, says, “Fifty bucks, carpenter boy.” Fifty?! I’m shocked—prices went up! Inflation’s hittin’ the streets too, damn!

SOME OF OUR PARTNERS & FUNDERS

First off, I hit up the local café on Strand Road. You know, the one with the best scones? Yeah, that one. I order my usual—coffee and a scone. But guess what? They’re out of scones! Like, how do you run out of scones in the morning? I’m standing there, all grumpy, thinking, “What’s next? No tea in Ireland?”

Death Notice of Mary Dolan (née Davitt) (Portmarnock, Dublin)