CC 98: Reductio Ad Absurdum

By sean mcnulty
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We came to the gates of Cuchullain’s Castle. A bed of leaves like a brown sea led up to the mound, and it seemed to be moving as seas did, the leaves gently bouncing under the breeze like a drowsy morning ocean. The castle and the grounds surrounding hadn’t changed a bit in all the time I could remember being there; there were hedges that retained shapes of the past, and drooping willows that may have been quietly narrating the history of the land. I thought we might find our earlier footprints there somewhere in the sod.
‘Let’s go in,’ I suggested.
‘No, we can’t You have to get home.’
‘Come on, Emer, for old time’s sake. Remember our second honeymoon.’
‘Catch yourself on.’
‘Just for a few minutes. It’s not every day we get the chance to come up here.’
‘I don’t want to be going somewhere that you romanticise the crap out of. It’s not appropriate.’
‘I don’t romanticise it.’
‘You do. You have a thing for these old places. It’s just an old shed, let’s be honest about it.’
‘I seem to remember you loved coming up here too back in the day.’
‘We’re not back in the day. It’s a new day. Watch. Any time soon, the sun will be up and it won’t be troubling itself with your nostalgia.’
‘I disagree. I’d say the sun would be more than happy to reminisce with us. It was with us the last time. And I’m sure even the sun needs to reflect on things sometimes.’
She laughed.
‘Ah, it’s been a while since you unleashed your cheap rendition of a reductio ad absurdum. I hope you’re happy now.’
‘I am. And it has been a while, you’re right. It must soothe your heart now to recall all those reductio ad absurdums we’ve enjoyed together in the past.’
‘You’re pushing it with enjoyed. ‘
Something told me it wouldn’t be hard to convince her to go in, and eventually she agreed to it. As long as:
‘No talk of honeymoons or any shit like that in here,’ she said. ‘I don’t want any uncomfortable throwbacks. Put all that romantic stuff out of your head.’
‘There’s none of it. I swear. You have my word, I won’t touch ya.’
‘You better not.’
The gates at the front of the castle were almost always locked, but you could climb over a leafy stile at the side quite easily. I scrambled over first to test the slippiness of it, and was careful I didn’t show too much concern for Emer coming after me, as I didn’t want to appear too romantic with her, but of course, she did slip, and I did turn back quickly to catch her, but the weight of her made me lose my own balance, and I was the one who fell and hit the turf.
‘You see, you can’t bypass romance,’ I told her, lying in the slime, grinning.
‘Get up, ya prize prick,’ she replied.
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Comments
ah, there's nothing like a
ah, there's nothing like a prze prick and a bit of grovelling. You've got leaves like a sea in the first paragraph and later in the sentence as an ocean. I'd call that a mixed metaphor, but only because I can.
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Hey, this is all getting a
Hey, this is all getting a bit mellow! I like it.
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