Tony
and I have settled in at O’Muddycheeks house. We have been giving
everyone these surnames, if that's what they are called, O' this and O' that.
I am not sure that is even what a sur-name is, nor am I sure O' this or
O' that would be historically or ethnologically accurate. For all we know
these assumedly pale folk could be proto-Huns, or Rus or what-ever-the-fuck-ish.
O'Muddysheeks has the biggest living room and best food and so there we
sit. Tony stopped drinking the first night; too much debris in the
fucking whisky.
“I think a leprechaun dropped a hay ball in my shit” he
says. He’s calling everything his shit
now. His shoes are his ‘shit’, I guess
he still misses Africa, BC. We have started blaming everything on
the leprechauns as an inside joke to ourselves, a sort of self-ironic act that
will not let us divorce ourselves from the madness that is time traveling
backward. The itch in my junk is just a
leprechaun, sprinkling nettles in my shorts, and has nothing to do with me
banging the witch every morning. I
don’t have to spell it out do I? O’shitlip’s
wife is taking us to where the leprechauns have been killing her babies,
dashing them on a rock. Poor O’shitlip’s
wife has lost her last two kids to the short green men. Then there’s Old Ben Have-a-bunch-more. Great guy, happy, big family, wealthy
I guess for this part of the old country. 7 girls, oldest is 19, youngest is
8. Tony wants to take the
three oldest ones back with us; wish it worked that way. He’s a genuinely happy guy, looks more
German than that sick, tiny, mopey looking Irish bullshit gene you see
everywhere out here.
At the meeting I try to stop it. Tony feels
it. He has been chewing some weed the witch gave him, it’s
like nicotine I guess, he says its like shitty speed. I suppose
it’s the closest thing you can come to a drug here besides drinking poison.
Everyone is gathered. I hold the meeting at night by a big fire. I
get the look from Tony, like, its not too late to change the plan.
"Dude, are we not here to teach these fuckers how to
fish? Whats gonna happen if we go around killing all the supposedly ‘guilty’
people, no, it has to be this way." I tell him.
”I know" he says, but still, neither of us believe
it. I tell assembled hamlet that there are traitors in our mistsdists(sp?).
I had the witch help me with a pyrotechnic. I thought about being honest,
about telling them they can't blame teen pregnancy and burnt food on the
supernatural to avoid being beaten. I think about saying, hey, instead of
making up little green men doing your dirty work for you, killing deformed
kids or retards or unwanted pregnancies, why don’t you see if you can organize
a cooperative of barren women or old maids who might want a little kid
to love and care for and why not have the families that have 'donated' the
children instead of killing them, maybe help out with repairs every so often
and a few potatoes now and then. I envision an archaic utopia in
this shit hole of a place. I know it won’t work. I go for the
pyrotechnics and murder instead. Gully suggested we kill the two
guys who have been braining their kids, but Ireland does not deserve that kind
of justice and may never.
In the end, through random bullshit, which seemed an
appropriate face of arbitration and justice at the time, my flexible witch, 12
year old have-a-bunch-more(btw, she was not one of the three oldest we wanted to
take, just in case, you know, in case you were wondering), O’no-jeans and
O’laughs-too-much’s quiet brother are all the recipients of a minute, sulfur,
meteorite from the sap con bat-shit, and a couple other things (none of which
were probably vital to its functioning as a pyrotechnic), or as we were calling
them, “Fire Faries of Truth, and hence summarily knocked out with sticks then
pulled unceremoniously over the fire by two way too eager kids, Tony and myself. It’s
quicker than it could have been but not quick enough. I tell them the
fucking ‘Faries’ made a sign, marking O’shitlips as one who is guiltless,
but, also as the one that the Leprechauns will try to get back into the hamlet
through after we have gone. “The Leprechauns will try to find a way
in through this poor soul. If he remains righteous, the hamlet will be
spared. If he seeks the aid of the leprechauns for perversions and
favors, they will exact a child from him, and then all of your troubles will
return. If any more of his children are taken, you will know he has let
leprechauns back into this clean and protected village. But, don’t
worry! Don’t worry, this is a good man…” then, I look long and deep
into his eyes and... “No more of his children will be killed, will they
O’shitlips?”
It was a great plan, would have worked if they had
understood any fucking thing we said.
“Dude” they let us kill people and they didn’t try to
stop us.”
“Yeah, that sucked.”
We have both lost our shoes and all of our jewelry,
buttons, fuck, everything other than these night-shirt lookin things we have
been wearing the last three days. I lost my fucking crown in a bowl
of porridge.
“God Damn it! I am really gonna miss that
witch.”
