CC 65: Launch Game

(1) 

Mitchell House is more animated than it was a few nights before when you stood outside with Staunton and his shitting wolfhound.  It’s alive with light and the warm hum of people inside.  The purple brick shines with royal pride making it appear larger and more handsome than it has ever appeared.  In fact, it is much bigger than passing pedestrians could ever know, its front room a grand parlour which could host a hundred; Mitchell House has been used as a gathering space for all kinds of groups and events in its time.   Arriving at the front door, you fall behind Paidi and Geary for a moment, a quiver of trepidation stopping you.

‘You not coming?’ asks Geary.

‘Yeah, yeah...I’m here, aren’t I?  Let’s go in.’ 

You follow behind through the hallway with its framed pictures of crypts and churchyards and they lead you into the wide and magnificent parlour with its lofty chattering and sense of worthiness.  Must be thirty people or so.  You can’t see Emer yet.  You hope for a moment she isn’t there. 

Prizes are usually hard won, and this one would require old magic perhaps – what you wouldn’t give for a voodoo doll, a luck-bringer, a cloak of invisibility. 

Let the game commence.

To get a glass of wine immediately, go to (2), or if you just want to stand for a bit, gather your bearings and listen to Geary talk about Satan, go to (3)

  

(10)

Paidi looks like someone just told him Jim Morrison was the voice of Scooby Doo in the original cartoons and would have been more famous for it if he had completed more of them, which would only have happened if his spirit hadn’t escaped the bathroom in Paris on that terrible day.  Emer looks at you for a moment.  You have a good mind to turn and leg it, but she starts to approach.  

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hello.’

‘How have you been?’

‘Fine, fine.  I’m sorry about this....no warning.  Geary and Paidi over there, they invited me along, but I didn’t know it was Paddy’s book launch, I swear....I....eh.....’

‘It’s okay.  Yeah, he told me.  It’s good to see you.’

‘Likewise.’

  

(6)

‘It’s about a fisherman who always has the best catch – he’s a fisherman you’d recommend to anyone, and the poem talks about his crisis of faith one dark night at sea.’ 

‘Sounds like a serious one.’

‘Well, it has meaning, for sure.  I always try to have a strong theme in my poetry.’

‘And what’s the theme in this one?’

‘I just told you.  Faith.  A crisis of faith.  At sea.’

‘Does it have to mean something?’

‘What do you mean?  Of course.’

‘Why?’

‘What’s the point then?  A poem without meaning is like a song without a tune.’

‘I’ve heard some songs without tunes and they weren’t so bad.’ 

The old poet snorts and turns to join a conversation about an upcoming teacher’s strike.  You decide to get closer to Emer.  Move towards Mickey Douglas, the artist, and say hello (9) or stick around and see if you can get some more information about Da McNamee from the old man (8)

 

(3) 

‘Lots of people here,’ says Geary.  ‘You know anyone?’

‘Not a single one.’

‘Lovely place, isn’t it?’

‘It sure is.’

‘This is where the Last Serpents used to meet, you know.’

‘I heard that.’

‘Satanists.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.  I always wanted to join, but it’s hard.  So secretive.  They don’t even have a website.’

‘Are they still around?’

‘You better believe it.  You can’t keep the dark arts down.  We need Satan now more than ever to tackle these bloody Christians.’ 

You need a glass of wine after that, so you run quickly to (2) 

 

(8)

‘You remember I spoke to you about Da McNamee that time?’ 

Your father-in-law lowers his head.  ‘Yes.’

‘I’ve been asking around about him again.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, I’m just interested.  What’s not interesting about him?’

‘I told you before – he was a charlatan, a freak, a liar, and a criminal, for Jesus’ sake.’

‘You don’t know how he died?’

‘They say he’s dead, but I wouldn’t give it any credence.  He probably faked it to get attention, and now he’s off living in Amsterdam in the red light district or something.  I wouldn’t put it past the guy.’

‘Some people say it was the Order of the Last Serpents.  You know about that group?’ 

The old poet’s eyes go through you like bullets he’s been saving in his barrels to fire at you for years.

‘I know them.  I’m one of them.’

‘Really?  I didn’t know.’

‘The Last Serpents are a heritage club.  We meet, we discuss local history, literature, art.  We are a community who enjoy a lot of respect in this area.  We’ve helped to establish homeless shelters, organised exhibitions,  advised the county council in matters relating to the town....look....stop listening to all that stupid gossip.  The town’s full of stories, I’ll grant you, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere.’ 

With that, your father-in-law turns to join a conversation about protesting the new water charges on the streets.  You consider what he has said, and figure that it makes sense.  You are slightly embarrassed about this obsession you have with Da McNamee, and choose to throw it to one side for a bit. 

You look over at Emer.  She’s talking now with Jane who has appeared and now Geary has joined them.  You move closer to them.  She still hasn’t seen you.  Say hello to Mickey Douglas (9) or have another glass of wine (7)

 

(5) 

The Recommended Fisherman:  Poems by Patrick Anthony Klerkin.  The cover has the abstract painting Trawler in the Bay by Mickey Douglas.  He’s here too, in the corner with his brother, the disgraced politician, James Douglas, and their wives.  You open the contents page and look through some of the titles of the poems. 

 

Oh, what a lovely love it was

The  Lark and the Morning After

A Meadow

A Field

A Leaf

Leaves

When I was but a whipper

 

You have a look at Page 45.  When I was but a whipper

 

When I was but a whipper

Snapping pencils in the day

On the algebra treadmill

I thought to myself... 

 

You close The Recommended Fisherman and lay it on top of some spilled red wine on the table.  You’re worse than Paidi, disrespecting innocent books which have done no harm to anyone, but think to yourself, some pencils should have been snapped a long time ago. 

Someone might say you dislike the man.  It’s true, but he’s still your father-in-law.  Should you go to speak with the old poet (6), or go to have another glass of wine (7)

 

(4)

The photographer keeps moving around, so it’s hard to hide behind him without spilling your wine; you decide to engage him in conversation to keep him still.

‘Which paper do you work for?’

‘The Argus.’ (camera clicking)

‘Ah, how’d you get into that anyway?’

‘Can’t remember.’  (camera clicking)   Just fell into it, I suppose. ‘  (camera clicking)

‘It’s a sweet gig.  Love to do it myself.’

‘Yeah.  (camera clicking)  Can I take your picture?’

‘Sure.'

(camera clicks)

‘Thanks.  What do you do?’

‘Nothing whatsoever.  You can print that in the caption.’

 

You decide to talk to your father-in-law, the man of the evening.  But what will you talk about?  His new book of poems – go to (6); Da McNamee – (8)

 

(9)

‘Hey,’ you say to Mickey Douglas, who looks at you sort of mystified.

‘Do I know you?’ 

He is wearing that fancy black honburg hat of his which declares artist in any room.  His way of being is similar to that of Paidi’s, superstar delusions, but you are more inclined to put some stock in Mickey’s artistic abilities than you are with Paidi.  His paintings are quite good.

‘Yes, we met some time back in the Spirit Store.  You were with those two over there,’ you say, lifting your head towards Geary and Jane who are chatting with Emer and Paidi.

‘Ah, okay.  Fine.’

‘I like the painting on the cover of the book.  You did it, yeah?’

‘Yes, it’s one of mine.  Cheers, buddy.  Oh wait, I remember you.  Yes, I do.  You’re the guy I was talking to about Da McNamee, right?’

‘That’s it, you got it.’

‘I wouldn’t talk about him in here with these old fogies.  They wouldn’t know experimental literature if it came up and bit them on each of their arses.  I still think McNamee was a wanker though.’ 

You both laugh.  Mickey isn’t so bad. 

You and Mickey talk about a variety of things for a bit.  Books, films, drink.  You feel like you fit in with all these intellectuals for a spell.  After a while, your attention returns to Emer and Paidi.  You watch as they both laugh, with Geary and Jane beside them knocking back the red wine like nobody’s business.  You wonder what Emer and Paidi are talking about.  Maybe Paidi’s telling her about how he tried to go to the bank but it was shut; no, not funny enough.  Maybe he’s just telling her a joke.  If so, it mustn’t be that funny because she suddenly stops with the laughing, and a sober element is added.  Then she spots you.  Go to (10)

   

(2)

You wonder where Paidi is.  You can’t see him through all the beards and bow-ties moving back and forth.  There’s a table with many bottles of wine on it and there’s a lady wearing a long black dress distributing glasses. 

‘Red or white, love?

‘I’ll have white.’

‘Oh, you’re the first one tonight.  They’re all on the red here.  I think they’re all vampires.’

Nice lady. 

She pours you a glass, and you take a sip, and it’s deliciously cold, and then you see Paidi.  He’s at the back of the room, leaning against a bookshelf, with no respect for the books, and there she is too.    It’s been so long since you’ve seen her that the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, and they stay standing up to attention as her beauty has its vengeance.  Your bride with white hair has returned.  She hasn’t noticed you yet.   Go to hide behind the newspaper photographer (4), or have a look through the book that’s being launched (5) 

 

(7) 

The nice lady in black serving wine has disappeared and been replaced by a grumpy-looking old man who greets and serves with a rasp. 

‘Red or white?’

‘White.’

He scoffs, and rasps, then pours the wine. 

You watch as Paidi and Emer laugh, with Geary and Jane beside them knocking back the red wine like nobody’s business.  You wonder what they’re talking about.  Maybe Paidi’s telling her about how he tried to go to the bank but it was shut; no, not funny enough.  Maybe he’s just telling her a joke.  If so, it mustn’t be that funny because she suddenly stops with the laughing, and a sober element is added.  Then she spots you.  Go to (10)