I hoisted the snare drum to my other shoulder. It was the drum my best friend Danny had played in the high school marching band, well and truly scratched but not faded, still a bright sparkling blue. He’d given it to me when he tired of it and decided to take up the trumpet.
The old woman, Broomtilda, took me in when I was a wee kitten and named me Tinkleberry. Her idea, not mine…
Over the years, as she grew frailer, it became difficult for her to find enough work around the village to buy bread and cheese. Were it not for the old cow in the byre, we would have no milk for my breakfast and Broomtilda’s dinner.
A beer bottle smashed on the side of a guy’s head can kill him. I know from personal experience. TV and westerns will give a different impression but the night Johnny Webber got iced at our neighborhood bar proved Hollywood wrong. It happened on St. Patrick’s Day back in ’99. We were at the neighborhood bar tipping a few of the green beers and squeezing the cheeks of the girls serving us. Why not? The shorts were green and as short as the month before March. The curve of the cheek just begged for the cupping of our hands.
Jack turned at the sound of the flapping paper. “What the…” he yelled, as he dropped the shoe. In place of his crock of gold, a curled paper shimmered against the mantle. He tore it off the hook and unfurled it.
As March begins you should be stocking the pantry to prepare tasty Irish dishes on and around St. Patrick’s Day, the 17th. Taking it a step farther, may I suggest a trio of Irish authors for your reading delectation as well? Read any or all of these authors in addition to cooking up and enjoying your colcannon, skirts and kidneys, crubeens, coddles, or just tucking into a simple Ulster fry with or without black pudding.
When Mars rover Curiosity sent back images of soil with sparkling flecks in it, at first NASA scientists were stumped. But they kept on digging. Finally, they were able to explain those sparkles. The scientists came to the inescapable conclusion that it was gold dust that had been left on Mars by leprechauns.
On my trip to Ireland several years ago we landed at the Dublin airport in weather that the Irish refer to as a soft day. By this they mean a rainy day. It was an early morning arrival and the dining hall in the hotel was closed. So, we fell onto our bed in the small but efficient room and took a nap.
It started out as a normal St. Patrick’s Day celebration in the town of Southern, Missouri, but before it was all over, four people ended up being treated at the Anderson Mental Hospital in Columbia. And of those four, three were under arrest for attempted grand theft. As for the rest of the people in Southern, St. Patrick’s Day would never be the same. What had seemed to be “legend” at one time now appeared to be “truth.”
Gail has shared many wonderful short stories with us and we are happy to have this Irish Spoof from her to share with you as we approach St. Patrick's Day!
This week KRL mystery fans get a little bonus with a St. Patrick's Day related original mystery short story never before published, written by Jack Bates, a 2011 Deringer Finalist for Best Short Story. This story is rated PG-13 for some strong language, violence & sexual content.
