A Conversation in Kilkenny (fiction)

By Mark Langton

(A rural pub in County Killkenny, Ireland. PACKY finds TOM at the bar drinking a pint. PACKY sits down and motions for one himself. Both men sit facing the audience.)

PACKY: Hello, Tom.

TOM: ‘lo.

PACKY: Showery day.

TOM: Begor' ‘tis.

PACKY: How’s de missus?

TOM: Well, she won’t kick the boucket, anyway.

PACKY: Ah, and what a marvelous relief that must be....You know, for you.

TOM: Says you, says I.

PACKY: Aye, say I -- why, what say you?

TOM: Well, if ya must know…(begins drumming his hands on the bar). I suppose if ya want me to agree...I suppose that I’d say aye, says me.

PACKY: Hi- diddlediddle, diddlediddle-dee. (Both men rap the bar twice in unison.)

(Both treat this greeting as routine, and each takes a long pull on his pint while staring straight ahead.)

PACKY: You know, Tom…

TOM: Work away, boy.

PACKY: Well, I mean to say…If ya don’t mind my noticin’, you’re looking very hirsute, dese days. Wit’ the new beard and that haircut, bejaysus if you’re not lookin’ more and more like Our Lord every day.

TOM: Aye, well. One can only hope. And pray.

PACKY: Ah wouldja shtop.

TOM: Oh, God I won’t.


(Long pause.)


PACKY: You know.... I find it a bit disturbin' that I cannot recall a day with sun.

TOM: Nonsense. This day, week. A glorious day. O God, it was grand.

PACKY: Aye, I suppose....As I recall, all I could t’ink of at the time was ... will it EVER rain again?

TOM: Certainly put Digger Dan in a bad humour.

PACKY: Well, with Dan that’s always the case on a fine day.

TOM: (Doing an impression of Digger Dan) ‘No one’ll die in dis weather.’ (Both men chuckle, and he does it again.) ‘No one’ll die in DIS weather!’

PACKY: Aye, but it is sad….Who would’a t’ought gravediggin’ would be a seasonal occupation.

TOM: Aye…poor bastard. Well, must pray for a fierce winter, so that Dan may be warm.

PACKY: Ah, Tom, yer a generous man.


(Long pause)


PACKY: You know (testing the waters, and with great import), I was over dere.

TOM: Good man, yourself.

PACKY: I saw Himself.

TOM: (Not looking up) Did you now…? Himself? Over t'--

PACKY: Aye. (Slowly, as if recalling a dream) He was goooooooin’ down the roooooad…

TOM: You don't say.

PACKY: …goin’ down the road like a two-year old.

TOM: I can hardly believe it.

(Pause)

PACKY: Aye, well, the only reason I even mention it is because didn’t Mike Cantwell say to me just the other day, that he was over dere, when I was over dere. And he saw Himself….

TOM: You’re jokin'!

PACKY: No, I’m sure of it….I’m sure he said it, anyway….The man said – and I believe these were his exact words -- said he was goin’ down the roooooooad….

TOM: Sweet muther of Jaysus…!

PACKY: Aye…I believe the precise phrase was … goin’ down the road…like a two year old.

TOM: I mean it’s diabolical.

PACKY: Aye…I thought so, too. And here’s the t’ing -- he said that he was ‘lurking.’

TOM: Lurking?

PACKY: Aye. Lurking, was Himself. Which has me totally confused, don’t you know…I mean to say, he always did have good harse-sense, did Himself.

TOM: You can usually trust a man who knows his teeth.And with Kat’leen bein’ a little long in the tooth, don’t you know… (Five men nearby at the bar spit mouthfuls of lager, trying to hold back).

PACKY: But you must admit, he is a great believer in...conserving his intellectual resourses. Which is why, these days, apparently he does most of his talkin' -- well, all of his talkin' -- to the birds.

(Pause)

PACKY: Well, he's a philosopher.

TOM: Aye, and we've got one or two of those.

PACKY: And come to t’ink of it, thank God for dat.

TOM: Ahhh, God Aye, t’anks be to God for that.. Solemn agreement all around. Both men laugh, wistfully. Followed by a

(Pause)

TOM: You know, the t'ing about Kat'leen...She only comes oop to "here" -- but she comes oop… (raises his fists in a fighting stance) if you know what I mean. (chuckling all around.)

PACKY: I suppose you know you're a wicked man.

TOM: Ah, that I am.

PACKY: Ah you’re the son of the deeeevil himshelf, y’are…

TOM: Guilty if it please the court. And I’d like to throw myself upon the mercy of… Kathleen, if ya don’t mind.

PACKY: Ah ya see, it goes to character your honor.

TOM: A matured and finished sinner, is what I am. T’anks be t’God.

PACKY: T’anks be t’ God.

(Pause)

PACKY: Ya roasted hoor, ya..

TOM: A roasted, black hoor. (They drink to that.)

(Pause)

TOM: (After some consideration ) Ah, but (quite serious) when ye t’ink about it, ’tis a blessing and a curse.

PACKY: Oh, God it is.

TOM: A doooble-edged sword, as it were.

PACKY: A gift…AND an affliction.

TOM: Life-long, life-long….And it’s not getting’ any longer, boyo, you know.

PACKY: Ah, sure, we’re not long for this world, ould son.

TOM: Me point exactly.

PACKY Ah, sure yer all right, wouldja shtop.

(Another pause.)

TOM: Anyway…. (Collecting himself, starting fresh…out of the side of his mouth, almost in a whisper.) You know, I was over dere. (Pause) And I, too, saw Himself.

PACKY: No!

TOM: God, Aye. And as coincidence would have it, on this completely separate occasion, I happened to notice he was goooooin’ down the roooooad.

PACKY: For fook’s sake...!

TOM: Goin’ down the road like a two year old.

PACKY: The man is relentless.

TOM: Aye. So I says to him, I says, “Showery day,” says I. ‘Begore, it is,’ says he. ‘How de Missus,’ says I. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘won’t kick de booocket anyway’…’Well,’ says I, ‘that must come as quite a relief, you know, to you;’ ‘Says you,’ says he. ‘Aye,’ says I, ‘why, what say you?’ ‘Well,’ says he, ‘if ya must know, I suppose if was all left up to me, I suppose that I’d say aye,’ said he.

PACKY: Very suspicious behaviour, if ya ask me.

TOM: That’s what I said …(to the barman) Jim! We’ll have one more and then we’ll go...

PACKY Or two.

TOM: I'll have two Harps and a violin, please.

PACKY: Or three.

TOM: (Drinks) Ahhhhh….be t’ Holy Man.

PACKY: (Drinks)…Ahhhhhhh...to be sure..to be sure.


(Long pause)



TOM: (Inhaling the word) Anyway…

PACKY: (Inhaling the word) Anyway…

(Pause)

PACKY: (Up an octave) You know…

TOM: Work away, boy…

PACKY: Just this day week…I was over dere. Sure if I didn't Himself again!

TOM: Did you now? (Sitting up, with great interest)

PACKY: Aye…and now that ye mention it…he was goin’ down the road.

TOM: I don’t believe it…

PACKY: Aye…(Pause.) He was gooooooin’ down the road…well…like a two year old.

TOM: Will the man ever shtop?!!

PACKY: Ah, he’s a shockin’ feller altogether.

(Pause)

TOM: (Perplexed.) Packy?

PACKY: Tom.

TOM: I suddenly feel unmerrrrciful uneasy about t’ whole t’ing, don’t you know.

PACKY: Ah, well,God you would.

(Pause)

TOM: At least there’s that, then (with grudging satisfaction).

PACKY: Aye. There’s that.


(Pause)


TOM: There ya have it, then.

PACKY: Aye, there ya have it now.

(Both men nod once and finish their drinks.)

BLACKOUT