The Laddie Who Met Misery

"Now I'm going to spin you one of the finest yarns, one of horror and mystery that will stand the hairs on your head. And there's any among you that hasn't run down that hole in the earth and met a nasty ogre of a chap who knew Misery, you better listen carefully to my tale. Before I go into my story I must make the two-finger sign against the Evil Eye to keep the Devil and his nasty demons at bay. I had enough of those evil characters in my younger days....

Not a man stirred in the Shamrock Inn set along the wharves at Dublin town. Eleven hard-working stiffs from the docks were all set on hardback chairs round the blazing hearth or leaning on the bar where a pixie of a man was getting ready to tell a tale fit for the occasion. It was at the height of the winter storms where the nights were freezing and the pub was a warm refuge for those who had a shilling to spare. And a glass or two of bitter ale to Paddy, a small humpbacked chap was enough to loosen his tongue and enliven the evening with one his tall stories.

Paddy, a retired elder had been working the docks for nigh on forty odd years; the growing hump on his back was a cruel sign of his backbreaking toil. He'd seen a thing or two in his colorful life, some pleasant others bitter.

So now the good man was set centered near the warmth of the hearth, with a half filled glass of the refreshing ale in hand. After he made the sign to ward of the Devil, he cleared his throat, spat into the fire, and was ready to begin the yarn.

But before he was able to utter one word the barkeep called out, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, tis not be a fine place to hear tales of old, but a honest business. So up with the shillings for a few glasses of my fine bitter, and one to top the pint of Paddy!"

Shillings were slapped on the bar and foaming glasses were filled from the tap. Then when all the fine company was relaxed, Paddy once again spat in the fire, made the sign, and with rough, nasal tones began his tall tale.

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