Gas
By sean mcnulty
- 293 reads
She told me about how she’d been part of a hiking group years ago established by her esteemed poet father. They would meet twice a month for a ramble through the Cooley's, or the Mourne's, or out to sacred sites such as Newgrange or Tara, or haunted old castles, and they would have to listen to oul Paddy Klerkin pontificating at various points about the lay of the land and the wondrous passing of time. Time took a long while to pass when that fucker was on one of his sermons, so I was glad to have missed it on the surface, yet secretly I desired the adventure of the whole enterprise. I’d been within reach of the venerated cultural ranks when I married Emer – a better class of society, the artisans and know-it-alls of the region; they were a group I’d always wanted to be a part of, but even though I’d wed into the family, I would never get my foot in the door of the guild. I wasn’t a twig on that family tree even when we were together, a leaf I was perhaps that had fallen in the natural order of things and was brushed away by angry winds. Weird these chips on your shoulder. How did they get there? I could have blamed it on a microcosmic class divide in my own little realm; or larger, graver social dysfunction; or God; or myself; or anyone but myself; or then again myself. But it was just a feeling I got, truth be told. An itchy feeling in the basement of the gut. Nothing could be done about it, so lumped it was.
‘If McNamee had joined us for good,’ said Noely. ‘I would have been out like a shot. But luckily that night he showed his true colours to us all.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Well, you know he was a scumbag from Cox’s. I heard his mother was a hoor who worked around the Castletown bridge. His father, an old drunken layabout. Dealing drugs to the secondary schoolers. And the son was into that too. Anyway, McNamee did a bit of thieving that night, of course. Valerie Renaghan – she was the wife of Clifford Renaghan, the dentist. God rest both their souls now. Well, the Renaghan’s were there at the Klerkin’s house that night as usual when McNamee turned up. Sure Valerie thought she was Lady Gregory the way she behaved and the way she dressed. Oh, she’d be in fine rags whenever we met up, shiny necklaces and all. I don’t know how Cliff foot the bill for it. But they were a quare pair, the Renaghan’s. McNamee could see that. I noticed him eyeing up Valerie’s jewellery as soon as he arrived and I knew something was up. He was a sneaky bastard.’
‘So he robbed some jewellery from her?’
‘No,’ continued Noely. ‘He robbed their groceries. The Renaghan’s arrived at the Klerkin’s with a bag of groceries and by the time we were leaving, that bag had disappeared. Along with McNamee who skipped off a bit earlier than the rest of us.’
‘Groceries?’ I asked. ‘How did youse know Da McNamee stole them?’
‘First of all, we knew the contents. Valerie had the full inventory locked in her noggin. I can even remember myself to this very day. A McCann’s loaf, litre of milk, packet of Penguin chocolate biscuits, two tins of oxtail soup (Clifford loved his oxtail), and a wee bag of onions.’
‘But how did youse know it was McNamee?’
‘Baz Brennan’s a friend of mine. He still is. You know, the taxi driver. He drove McNamee back into town that night. And guess what?’
‘What?’
‘He left a bloody Penguin wrapper behind him on the passenger seat. Baz still remembers it because he read the little joke on the wrapper and it was gas.’
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I liked this made me laugh to
I liked this made me laugh to I liked the language and the characterisation. I IImagined this being part of a novel or something bigger.
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