Emilia Ringsend Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

Her name’s, uh, Candy—shocker, right? Says she’s a “dancer,” but I ain’t dumb. Seen her type, slinkin’ round bars, hustlin’ johns. Little known fact: whores like her, they’re uninsurable—too risky! Claims out the wazoo—STDs, bar fights, ya name it. Pissed me off, tho—she’s actin’ like I owe her somethin’. “I’m not your sugar bot, lady!” I wanna yell. But nah, I’m polite, goldenrod manners an’ all.

Classic Poem

Ringsend ().” Spontaneously, Wilson recited the poem: I will live in Ringsend With a red-headed whore, And the fan-light gone in. Where it lights the.

After that little scare, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the Ringsend Park. It’s a small spot, but it’s got this vibe, ya know? The flowers are blooming, and the smell of fresh grass is in the air. I sit on a bench, just chillin’. I pull out my phone to check the time, and guess what? I’ve got a million notifications. My buddy’s texting me about some pub quiz tonight. I’m like, “Yeah, count me in!”

Celebrating John Young