The Sneaky Pint: Boys (continued)

Posted on April 29, 2021 / by The Drunken Poet

Now I’d jumped the fence at Mrs. Sweeney’s many times in the retrieval of footballs, so as I ran down the side of the house, the only thing on my mind was how the hell me and Sean were gunna score a goal off Gerry. There was a high wall next to the house with an ivy covering it and the was just enough room for a person to pass through to get to the rear of the house. I ran down this passage, the leaves of the ivy brushing my face. It gets kinda dark in this passage, before you empty out into Mrs. Sweeney’s backyard. But this time as I rounded the corner the backyard was, well it wasn’t there at all.
I pulled up as I began to take in the scene. My heart skipped a few beats and I must’ve stood there with my mouth hanging open and me eyes popping out me head. The entire area where the backyard used to be was shimmering light, clouds and mist. A waterfall was coming from the sky. A rainbow curved over an enormous throne and sitting on the throne was a giant….I dunno what to call him, but I guess he was some type of warrior, cause he had a golden helmet, shield and spear. He looked up at me and his gaze was electric. I fell to my knees. I’m not even sure what made me do that. I was awestruck and felt an enormous love and respect for this unknown warrior. Emotions were coursing through me with no rhyme or reason. I looked up and who should be standing next to the warrior, but Mrs. Sweeney. I mean, she obviously wasn’t Mrs. Sweeney anymore. She was a beautiful young woman warrior, with a gold helmet and shield, and long red hair that curled over her shoulders, but when she smiled at me I recognised her for who she….used to be?
“Where am I Mrs Sweeney?”
“ Tír na nÓg Barry. Have ye heard of it?”
“I mightta yeah. Its like heaven, but without the angels and stuff?”
“Sorta yeah. This is Manannán mac Lir.” And the giant warrior fella raised his hand. I felt like I’d been blessed by the Pope, but better cause that’d happened to me already when the Pope came to Ireland the year before and it certainly didn’t make me feel like the sun was shining right out of my chest like it did then.
“Am I dead Mrs. Sweeney?”
“No Barry, but I am. I had a heart attack this morning while I was putting the kettle on. I’m lying on the kitchen floor. I just wanted to ask you to do one last job for me.”
“Anything Mrs. Sweeney.”
“If you and the lads go to Australia after you finish school on a gap year, could you do me favour?”
“Absolutely! Always wanted to go there.”
“Have a pint at The Drunken Poet for me. Its one of my life’s biggest regrets that I didn’t get there. From what I hear, its not far off Tír na nÓg for blissful experiences.”
I put my hand over my heart. “Mrs. Sweeney, it’d be a honour and a pleasure. There’s just one thing.”
“Can I have me ball back?”