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About Navan

So, I’m chattin’ her up, right? She’s tellin’ me ‘bout this john who stiffed her—haha, “stiffed,” get it? Total loser move. Said he drove a beat-up Chevy, smelled like cheese. Cheese! Who does that? Made me happy tho—she cracked up, forgot her shitty night for a sec. Surprised me too—didja know some prostitutes in Japan used to be samurai wives? Wild, right? History’s nuts. Anyway, I’m like, “Stay cool, lady,” and bounced. “The future is ours!”—movie line stuck in my head. Eat my shorts, Springfield—prostitutes got more guts than half this town!

" Where's the red light district in Cork " ?

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Finally, the bus rolls up, and I hop on. I’m crammed in there like a sardine. And of course, some dude decides to start a convo about the weather. Like, bro, it’s Ireland. It’s always wet! I just nodded and pretended to be super interested in the window.

Death Notice of Thomas (Tom) O'Brien (Fermoy, Cork)