Madison Balbriggan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Swords

I’d finally spot one, okay? Some chick in fishnets, leanin’ on a wall, and I’m like, “Oh god, oh god, what now?” I’d stumble over, all nervous, sayin’, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d smirk—SMIRK!—and I’d be furious! “Don’t judge me, lady, I herd sheep all day!” I’d haggle, too, ‘cause I’m cheap— “Twenty bucks, that’s it, take it or leave it!” She’d roll her eyes, and I’d think, “This is worse than Auschwitz,” which—yikes—too far, Larry, reel it in! But that’s my brain, ping-pongin’ like Saul’s, from panic to dark humor.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. I turn around, and there’s a bunch of kids playing football on the beach. They’re shouting and laughing, and I can’t help but smile. It’s like they’re living in the moment, you know? I remember when I was a kid, running around on the beach, not a care in the world.

Death Notice of Noeleen CULBERT (Balbriggan, Dublin)