The Final Dawn

 

The Final Dawn

The next morning dawned grey and damp, drizzle streaking down the windows of The Shelbourne’s presidential suite. Salty stood by the window, shirtless, muscles flexing as he sipped an espresso, staring down at Dublin waking up below.

On the giant king-size bed sprawled Large Lad, sheets tangled around his bloated gut, snoring like a chainsaw. Across from him, Imran lay on the chaise longue, naked except for a half-open robe, with Ingrid curled up fast asleep on his chest, hair fanned out like golden silk.

The Angels padded around the suite quietly, packing suitcases, adjusting makeup, and sipping green juices. The suite smelled of coffee, musk, and last night’s sex.

Salty turned to look at them all. A smile tugged at the corner of his bearded lips. He set his espresso cup down and pulled on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it halfway to reveal his powerful chest.

“Wake up, Large Lad,” he growled.

Large Lad stirred, groaning. “Five more minutes…”

“No, lad. Today is your day. Your chance to see what real legends live like. You ready?”

Large Lad forced himself upright, sweat glistening on his flabby chest. “Aye… I’m ready, Salty. Just… give me a pint first.”

Salty chuckled deeply, slipping on his gold aviators. “Atta boy.”

He turned to Imran, who was now awake, stroking Ingrid’s hair as she murmured in her sleep.

“You coming, brother?” Salty asked.

Imran grinned, revealing his crooked teeth. “Always.”

Salty smirked, flicking his wrist to check his gold Rolex. “Chopper’s waiting on the roof. Let’s show Cork how legends roll.”

And with that, Mr. Salty Dawg, Large Lad, Imran the Plougher, Ingrid the Norwegian Princess, and Salty’s Angels strode out of The Shelbourne, leaving behind rumpled sheets, drained bottles, and echoes of laughter – reminders that for a brief, glorious moment, Ireland had played host to gods among mortals.

Because in the end, life isn’t about what you own or where you live. It’s about the stories you leave behind, whispered in pubs and sung about by madmen with guitars.

And Ye Olde Large Lad finally had stories worthy of a legend.

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