Улисс

           Gob,he’dletyoupourallmannerofdrinkdownhisthroattilltheLordwouldcallhimbeforeyou’deverseethefrothofhispint.AndonenightIwentinwithafellowintooneoftheirmusicalevenings,songanddanceaboutshecouldgetuponatrussofhayshecouldmyMaureenLayandtherewasafellowwithaBallyhoolyblueribbonbadgespiffingoutofhiminIrishandalotofcolleenbawnsgoingaboutwithtemperancebeveragesandsellingmedalsandorangesandlemonadeandafewolddrybuns,gob,flahoolaghentertainment,don’tbetalking.IrelandsoberisIrelandfree.Andthenanoldfellowstartsblowingintohisbagpipesandallthegougersshufflingtheirfeettothetunetheoldcowdiedof.Andoneortwoskypilotshavinganeyearoundthattherewasnogoingsonwiththefemales,hittingbelowthebelt.

           Sohowandever,asIwassaying,theolddogseeingthetinwasemptystartsmousingaroundbyJoeandme.I’dtrainhimbykindness,soIwould,ifhewasmydog.Givehimarousingfinekicknowandagainwhereitwouldn’tblindhim.

           —Afraidhe’llbiteyou?saysthecitizen,jeering.

           —No,saysI.Buthemighttakemylegforalamppost.

           Sohecallstheolddogover.

           —What’sonyou,Garry?sayshe.

           ThenhestartshaulingandmaulingandtalkingtohiminIrishandtheoldtowsergrowling,lettingontoanswer,likeaduetintheopera.Suchgrowlingyouneverheardastheyletoffbetweenthem.Someonethathasnothingbettertodooughttowritealetterprobonopublicotothepapersaboutthemuzzlingorderforadogthelikeofthat.