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About Galway

I tried it, alright? Got this chick, hot as hell, thought I’d be like, “The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind”—y’know, smooth shit from *Inside Llewyn Davis*. But she ghosts me! Fuckin’ pissed me off, like Llewyn losin’ that damn cat again. What’s the deal? You send a dick pic, she’s gone faster than Paulie Walnuts in a bakery. Sex-dating’s a hustle—half these profiles? Fake! Bots! Like, who’s got time for that shit?

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After that, I’m back on my chair, trying to catch a breather. But then, I hear this loud crash. I look over, and some dude just knocked over a whole table of snacks. Chips everywhere! I’m talking about a full-on snack massacre. I can’t help but laugh. Like, who even does that? But then I see the vendor, Mr. O’Reilly, looking like he’s about to lose it. Poor guy. He’s been selling snacks on Ratoath’s Main Street for years. I help him clean up, and he’s like, “Thanks, mate. You’re a lifesaver!” I’m like, “Nah, just a snack saver.”

Death Notice of Michael Lynam (Ratoath, Meath)