Our Emerald Isle  -  Snakes Eyes

Some people will do or say anything for a free drink.

Traci was washing the windows and drawing her own crowd, Brian was pouring drinks, taking inventory, and flirting with one of the town lassies, Abdul was out back making some foundation repairs, and Bev was cooking up some home made gravy in the kitchen.  I was doing what I do best.

“So you see my fine lads, Alaska was visited by St Patrick and just like Ireland drove the snakes out.  How else can you explain that neither have none.”  With that I slammed back the rest of my Black and Tan feeling quite the expert and smug about matters that my newly found neighbors and Brian's Black and Tan pup goers knew nothing about.  I was fulfilling my duties as host and story teller for our establishment while providing a little educational enrichment. 

Through the bottom of my glass I could see Mack O’Willy finish off his pint with a slight smirk about his face.  He had just returned from Dublin where he worked in a traveling carnival.  The carnival had just played our town and O’Willy decided he was tired of all that stuff and decided he would stay home for awhile.  He had just quit and was grimy with dirt scattered from head to toe.  Typical I thought of Carnies, having had Carnies as relatives of my own.

I was unable to attend the two day carnival affair and didn’t want to anyway because in my youth I would work for my cousin providing chickens for the geek he had employed which happened to be another cousin.  I had and spent more time than one should in such places and all it did for me was to make me detest chicken prepared in any fashion.  I worked the bar while Traci, Brian, and Bev sold food at one of the concessions and Abdul puttered around outside between preparing the evening meal and washing dishes.  “You don’t believe me O’Willy,?” I asked

“Oh, I believe it alright, or I should say I believe you believe it, but you are way off about your facts,”  O’Willy informed.  “Most people believe the way you do but the facts, or I should say some of the facts like St Patrick and the snakes be not true at all, for the most part.  I cannot say about Alaska having no snakes or even about our blessed saint actually making it that far west or possibly north and then dipping south or going east if had a mind to.  All I know for sure is that there is at least one snake living in our beloved homeland and it being underneath the floor in the pipe crawl where we sit.”

A hush fell over my patrons and we all seemed to dip our heads and stair at the wooden floor.  Then simultaneously we fixed our eyes on O’Willy.

I soon gathered my thoughts and told O’Willy that if he was so sure to put his money where his big mouth was and bet me a round on the house that he was right and I was wrong.  He agreed but said he needed to tell us all a story first.  The Irish are always telling a story or two to get across a point that no one else seems to understand.

“You see Pub Keeper and honored patrons,” O’Willy began, “We don’t have a lot of snakes in Ireland but the ones we do have live a long, long time.  When I was just a lad my Grandfather, God rest him, woke me one night and asked me to help get rid of a snake he had seen crawling into a whole under this very pub.  Well, Baba, as I called him, had seen a lot of spiders and snakes in his day due to his love of the grain so it weren’t unreasonable that he woke me at such an early hour, for he had given up long ago trying to get anyone else’s attention.  How can you turn your sainted grandpa down.  Besides I always liked these midnight adventures of ours.  You see this was not the first time I was awoken to go on a hunt of some sort of creepy crawly or just to assure none were keeping his skin company.  We never caught a snake however, in fact I never really saw one or any other wiggly a reptile or crawling arachnid on or off his body.  But I came to realize then as now, it ain’t the trophy but the race.

“We made our way to the back of the pub here where Baba had seen the snake vanish into a whole.  Since I was the smaller of the two, naturally, he had me bend down to see if I could see anything in the whole.  Well it being night and all, all I could see was a bunch of blackness looking back at me, if in fact blackness can look at all.  I mentioned such to Baba and he immediately recognized the problem so he took a cigar out of his breast pocket, lit it and puffed to get a red glow.  While he was doing that I busied myself digging out around the whole to get a better view and enable me to extend me head and hand under the pub.

“When he figured he had illuminated the end of the cigar enough he handed it to me and I stuck it inside the whole along with part of my head and scanned the area.  At first I could not see a thing but then in a distance I saw two little red specks moving from sided to side in tandem. It startled me and I, yes I must admit, was scared more than just a little.

“ I jerked my head and arm back out of the whole and told Baba what I had seen.

 “Quick lad, let’s cover up the whole and trap the monster under the pub.  That way he can’t get out and will starve to death.”  

“But Baba, won’t he just find another way out or make a new whole?”

‘Heaven’s no, the owners have always believed in keeping their family foundation tight and solid and I am sure that applies to their home and pub also.  Besides a snake has no arms and he can’t dig his way out.  The animal will starve to death in no time at all.’  But I was not so sure, there were enough mice and soggy ground to keep anything alive and well fed and watered for many years, and if I were a betting man which it appears I am, I am sure the snake is there to this very day.  Some reptiles live to be over a hundred years old you know.”  O’Willy ordered another pint drained half of it and slammed the glass back on the bar.

As O’Willy finished his story I realized I had him in a trap.  Everyone in the pub was going to have a free drink and I was going to make a few more Irish dollars.  How could he think that he would be able to outwit me in the art of story telling. 

“Alright Mr. O’Willy even if I were to believe your story you still have no proof that snakes in general and that particular snake has lived all these many years.  How would you know?  You never looked back into the whole did you, how could you, you covered it up, and no foundation is that strong that there wont be a crack or two during the years for a snake to slither threw.  Just ask Abdul he is out back as we speak repairing a whole that seemed to materialize out of no where last night.  Ah, a nice story but a story no less, no facts to back it up.”  I waited for the laughter to die down and ordered a round on the house and waited for O’Willy to pay up.

“Pub keeper,” O’Willy responded, “There is away to prove my facts.  Facts are a stubborn thing you know.  Let us pull up a couple of these planks that make up your floor and you crawl down there with a flashlight and see for yourself.  There should be no fear on your part for two reasons: There are no snakes in Ireland you say and secondly if there was one it has already left or even dead and it no way could hurt you, or scare you, if you are prone to be scared that is of a small little slithering reptile.”

Ha, I thought to myself.  Me afraid of a snake, never, however crawling around a space small as  crawl space below was a different matter all together.  “I tell you what O’Willy, I am not going to crawl under the pub but I will stick my head between the two planks we remove and do a visual search with my flashlight.”  That seemed to satisfy O’Willy.

We cleared away some table and chairs from the center of the floor and a couple of the regulars began the process of lifting the wooden floor planks in such a manner so I could get my head and shoulders under the floor.  As two trusted patrons held my legs I dipped my body into the hole up to my hip region, began my visual search and as I had suspected there was no sign of a snake.  I yelled back up to the crowd that was growing and was about to tell them to pull me out when I heard a noise I could not make out.  It was sort of like a springing or hissing sound.  I turned the flashlight in direction of the noise and there looking at me were two beady eyes, red, moving back and forth in tandem.  I yelled for the men to hurry and get me out of there, they seemed like they were taking their time, but eventually they got me out of that hell whole. 

I was panting and sweating.  One of the boys gave me a Black and Tan that Brian had waiting for me and I told the men,  “Quick, put the floor back we’ll keep the little devil there for a few more years.  Some one tell Abdul to fill up the wholes around the foundation, NOW!  Alright O’Willy you won.  Brian, put the drinks on my tab instead of O’Willy’s, in fact make it another round.” A cheer came from the crowd.  I am a poor winner but a gracious loser.

About that time Bev came out of the kitchen followed by Abdul.  “What in the name of the Sicilian Gods is going on out here?”   I briefly told her, sort of sheepishly though.  She just stood their for awhile then bowed and shook her head.  “Look out the window pub keeper.”

 I could see the carnival going past and the last wagon to go by had painted on its side a picture of snake with two reddish eyes configured in such a way that its eyes seemed to  move from side to side in tandem.  “Reptilian bobble heads for sale” was painted in bright red letters under the picture just above the wheel wells.  I turned to confront O'Willy, but he was no where to be found.

Our Emerald Isle -Killer Sheep

Traci said she would do anything she could to insure that Brian's Black and Tan would be a success.  She had noticed over the last several weeks that there was a lull in business before noon each Saturday and thought that if some method could be devised to get patrons in earlier that sales would i O ncrease in the early morning hours and by virtue of already being there those present would stay for lunch.  Her plan worked.

Every Saturday morning beginning precisely at 9:00 she would take a bucket of soapy water and sponge and begin washing the outside of the windows.  Now washing windows in and of themselves would not normally draw a crowd but she had devised a method of washing three pains at the same time.  Being a family type of narrative I will let your imagination conjure up how this task was performed.

There were no seats available near the windows on this one particular Saturday morning so when O’Gradey came in like he always did around 10:30 he sat at the bar and listened to me finish up a story about the time I tracked a polar bear while living in Alaska.  All were very much impressed. 

“So you see my friends there is not a meaner or more dangerous animal in all the world.” I concluded.

O’Gradey while hunched over his first pint of the day said that sure enough a polar bear was an animal that deserved respect but he took issue as to it being the most dangerous animal in the world.  “It’s undoubtedly the meanest animal in the arctic, but not the world, that would be our Killer Sheep not found far from here in the Thickets and Hills of O’Clare.”  The crowd nodded their heads in agreement.

I could not let the comment go unchallenged.  “Why I have never heard of a killer sheep.”

“Well it is nothing we talk about much, it’s bad for tourism.  In fact I am one of the few men alive that has ever hunted the beast and lived to tell the tale.”

This I had to hear.  “And what may tell would that tale be?”

“It was a blistery cold day,” he began as the crowd gathered around, except for the young men sitting by the window pretending not to watch Traci wash the widows, “and the towns people of De’Vere realized that something had to be done.  One of the killer sheep had wondered down from the mountains and had been killing pigs, chickens, and peaceful sheep.  The Town Council knew that I was a veteran of the troubled times and had spent time away having found it only prudent that I leave our beloved country for awhile until things cooled down and reside in Africa..  While in Africa I took up big game hunting.  The Village people knew I was the only one who could track and destroy the Killer Sheep or at least chase it back to the Thickets and Hills of O’Clare.  They were right of course and I deemed it my duty to protect our town.  Pigs, chickens, peaceful sheep today and our little children tomorrow, yes I would take the challenge.

“I went to the place where the last kill was reported.  Near the carcass of a bonnie looking sheep I saw the tracks leading back toward the Thickets and Hill of O’Clare.  I could tell by the size of the hoof prints and the stride that this was a big one and that my task was a challenge.  I was not deterred, I had my spear and sling I had taken off a Zulu warrior and a trusty British Enfield I had acquired during the troubles, nothing would stop me from by task.

“I came to the first row of thickets and pressed thru, cutting my skin and tearing my clothes but on I went.  I proceeded this way for an hour or so until I stepped in a bog and sunk to my hips.  I struggled out of the muck but in so doing I dropped my Enfield and it was sucked down in the mud.  There was no way of retrieving it.  My spear and sling were looped over my shoulder so I continued my hunt.

“I clawed and crawled through the thickets that ran up hill for another hour or so.  I finally came to a clearing and paused to rest.  I must have dozed off for I was awoken by a sound that immediately put a shiver in my spine.  I looked around to where the sound was coming from and saw the biggest Killer Sheep I had ever seen.  Bigger than the one they use to keep stuffed at the terminal at the Shannon Airport until the tourism commission protested.  For some reason though the Killer Sheep was not aware of my presence.  I silently said a Hale Marry and an Our Father. 

“Gently and quietly I rose to my feet, assembled by spear and sling and with all my might through the spear and hit the Killer Sheep right above his shoulder blade.  To my horror however the spear bounced off.  The Killer Sheep turned and sat its eyes upon me.  It snorted like a wild hog, pawed its front hoofs like a raging bull, and charged at me like a white rhino, all of which I had seen before, but never without a weapon in my hand.

“A Killer Sheep’s speed is legendary, but this one seemed faster than legends.  The closer he got the faster he got and when there was just a few yards separating us he opened his mouth wide as if to engulf me like a whale did one of my companions when I was whaling off the coast of Madagascar and continued his attack.

“I stood my ground however knowing I could not out run the beast and just as he was about to make me no more I reached inside its mouth with my right arm plunged it to the rear of the beast, grabbed its stubby tail pulled back as hard as I could turned the creature inside out and he started running the other way.” 

I told Brian to get Mr. O’Gradey a quart of whatever it was he was drinking.  On this day I had been out done.