Legacy

Another Fine Tale from The Emerald Isle Folk

It’s true, I’m Irish and a son of the old sod.  But even though occasional we stretch things just a wee bit mind ye, it’s not really our fault.  You see a few nips always make for embellishing a tale..  But mind ye just a wee bit.  its a natural thing and we cannot help ourselves, it’s the way it is.

I’m Michael Monahan, a good friend of Paddy Mahoney, who this story is somewhat about.  Paddy is primarily a potato farmer, but he had some livestock also.  Among the live stock was a fine rooster and a fine bull, both of which Paddy loved and prized.  Paddy treated them exceptionally well and in return they loved Paddy.

Now poor Paddy took ill, seriously ill and he was on his deathbed.  The  Rooster and the Bull sensed what was wrong and stayed by the window of Paddy’s bedroom praying as well as beasties could.  I was there too along with many others awaiting poor Paddy’s death, and anticipating the soon to follow fine Irish Wake  where much celebrating Paddy’s going to heaven would occur along with a lot of fine nipping of course.  Aye, I could almost taste the good stuff already,

Then we all heard it, the fearsome wail of The Banshee.  That wail puts great fear in the hearts of man and beastie alike for all know what it heralds.  We all turned white as sheets; while we figured he was coming for Paddy, you only new for sure it was someone. It might be someone other than Paddy.

There it came silhouetted against the full moon sky.  That cursed black coach, pulled by six black unholy horses and driven by a skeleton wearing a black as sin cloak and a black three cornered hat.  He cracked his whip made of human bones, and the horses hooves sounded as thunder.

Well the rooster and bull knew what that was all about and decided they wouldn’t allow any of that.  God bless the beasties; they moved and blocked the front door, and when the Banshee stepped out of his coach he said get out of my way.  They said we will not budge, you shall not have our Paddy.  Now we were all taking all of this in and couldn’t wait for the wake to start nipping as we very much needed some jolting bracers.

The Banshee said, you must get out of my way, it’s not my fault, I’m just doing me job.  The rules say that once I’ve exited me coach that me myself and I must take a soul or a body or both, but I’m not allowed to depart empty handed.  With that the Banshee took a nip and said here’s to your health, now move out of me way.

The rooster and bull said we shall not be moved. The Banshee was getting very frustrated and a bit irate.  He said now look you two, but before he could utter another word the rooster and bull said if you must not leave empty handed then leave Paddy alone and take us instead. Whoa! now that set the Banshee back a step or two.

The Banshee who apparently  was not without feeling was impressed by the sacrificial offer.  He said I can’t take your souls, you have none.  I have no use for your bodies, as they don’t fit into the scheme of things, but give me a minute to think.  The Banshee reached in his pocket and pulled out something that looked like a rule book.  After much hemming and hawing, and going hmmm! A lot; the Banshee announced I have found a loop hole in the rules.  I cannot take your lives, but I can technically take your bodies by depriving you of them.  This I will accomplish by changing you into men.  And that is exactly what he did.  He then bade them a fine farewell and wished them good fortune as they were now men.

There they stood, two men, one barrel chested fellow, and the other thin and banty legged.  Wasn’t had to tell which had been what.  But there they stood in their birthday suits, so we quickly gathered some clothes up for them.  Then we all celebrated together till we were all pie eyed.

Well the morning came and Paddy had made a miraculous recovery. The coffin maker had to take his coffin back. He moaned about how hard it was to make a living with all the interference going on.

What about the rooster and bull now men, you say. Well that’s another story to be told in much detail some other day. But me,  myself, and I will give you the start of it.

They went to America to find their fortunes, leaving the old sod behind.  They promised to write and they did.  It seems that the bull had adopted the name of Angus McDonald and was successful in the fast food business.  The rooster, now let me see, oh yes, he said he’d become a famous singer and a real chick magnet.  His name?  Didn’t I tell you?  I hate repeating myself but here it is once again, Frank Sinatra. Strange, that is not Irish sounding at all.

Now I want to guarantee you this story is true.  If I’m lying then I hope I sit down to hard and bust me hip flask before it’s even opened.

And by the way, Happy Halloween. Watch out for those Banshees ye hear.