Deep in the green Irish Sea, somewhere between the Doolin Dock and Inis Oir, she barrel-rolls for no one and nothing.
“Eh! Eh! Eh! Eh! Ah!” She tells her best pun to the sea cucumber—more of an acquaintance than a friend, even after seven years of how-do-you-dos and dirty jokes. Larry barely even undulates. Or she thinks his name is Larry, he’s just such a dud. She chirps out one lonely laugh. Tough crowd.[Read more…] about Dusty of the Aran Islands