More “Ain’t No Tommyknockers”

continued from a past embrace

and that’s when they made that final, inevitable stand…right there at the north end of the bar.

“I’ll not be movin’ to accommodate some damn mole of a fairy,” said Seamus, landing one in an unassuming spittoon. “Besides, I have claimed this bar room in the good name of Daniel O’Connell, the uncrowned King of Ireland.”

To the amazement of many in town, Seamus also claimed to be a leprechaun.

And that, according to local liars and their henchmen, is how the whole mess escalated. The folks up Catholic Hill felt obliged to support the chatty little person in green. After all, who had kept the banshee at bay and repaired the shoes of their little children?

“It’s that damn Seamus again, tattled the town drunk, Michael Finnegan, a non-practicing Presbyterian. “They’ll be a fracas if he isn’t stopped.”

The new town marshal, Jim Clark, whose mother hailed from County Wicklow, told Seamus to shut up and go home.

And where was that Dempsey kid tonight?” quipped the leprechaun. “Jack Dempsey at 20 has already had several professional fights on the East Coast. He had recently returned to Telluride for a break from the ring. Right now he was walking through the bar room door as Seamus kept right on talking and sipping from the shots that had been bought for him by the much entertained patrons.

“He’d better stay clear of my bar,” he menaced, “or I’ll bloody his nose for him.”

Then he turned around face-to-face with the boxer.

“Jack, my darlin’ squeaked the wormy Seamus from behind his flood of alcohol. “Come and take a drink with me. Were taking the town back from the Tommyknockers. I was just now speaking of you…”

Leprechauns have been known to protect humans that they like, while causing problems for those that they did not appreciate. Dempsey, having been brought up with the slooa shee, albeit with Mormon influence, was well aware of the power that lurked within the dwarfish stature.

“I’ll pass on drinking dirty dish water with you,” said Dempsey figuring Seamus’ tastes had not improved since the last time the two had locked eyes.

“Oh you’re not drinking whiskey? Buy my friend a lager,” he said to the bartender. “I’ll be running things around here soon and I’d like your blessing. When we rid ourselves of the Tommyknockers the deenee shee can once again go about their sacred business of saving civilization without interference.”

Both of them now took a pull on their drinks, made comments about the dust and the hard work, and then Seamus spoke up.

“So I guess what I’m asking, Jack, is are you for us or against us? We need you with us to pull this off. Otherwise,” he winked in the direction of the men at the bar, “we’re gonna have to rough you up. Now you don’t want to mess up those Sunday go to meetin’ duds you so fondly

– Dermott McGinty

Continued out back come spring

Filed Under: Reflections on Disorder

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