A WILD CAULD DAY IN WINTER

A cold, hard, penetrating frost had left the terra firma as hard as steal. I moved about the yard-gingerly, in my hobnailed boots, knot inviting or wanting a cope on my firm, round, plump girlish derriere. My breath exhailed before me, like smoke from the exhaust of a kar that was burning oil. A silvery sheen of hoar frost clung to everything, like icing sugar on a cake. It was-Winter, cold, hard-Winter. Far away in the distance, I heard a sheep dog go "Wow-Wow". "That's Murphy's Nellie" I muttered "Why don't they take the crater in and let it heat itself at the fire?" The horizons had shrunk, everything was veiled in a strange, fairy-like mist. I was ka-cooned, ka-cooned, in a bubble, like an esk-ski-mo in wan of them glass balls you shake, to sea the snow fall down. I bent over, gracefully too pick up a plastic bucket, it was stuck, stuck too the ground with the frost. As I bent, a chill blast of wind blue up my skirt,and tried to gain entrance, to that part of me that is designed for the accomadation of exiting wind. I repelled the icy blast, by raising slightly on wan foot and emmiting a loud, warm warning fart. The icy wind fled in fear and confusion. Suddenly, I stiffened like a sentenial and harked, Did I heer a sound coming from the icy wilderness? I pinned back my lug-holes and harked again. Yes, it was the sound of my true love Chuck Corona, coming threw the bog, two visit she who had stolen his hart, Rosie Ryan. My cheeks flushed red like a turkey, my hart leapt within my rib cage,like a hungry hamster, my blood was rushing threw my viens, a veritable tide of red plasma, bubbling and boiling with love and passion. I rubbed the snotters from my icy nose with my sleeve, in preperation for the welcoming kiss. I climbed the frozed midden like Sir Edmund Hilliary and roared, "Cooee Chuck. Cooee Chuck, Cooee, my little Chuckie". I inverted my lug whole, listening for Chuck's reply. Chuck was in poetic mode, as his squat, round, humped figure came in site, I heard my beloved bellowing with poetical gusto.
"I TRUNDLE THREW THE ICE AND SNOW
MY TRUE LOVE FOR TO SEE
THOUGH SOMETHINGS TURN BLUE WITH THE COLD
AND ARE VERY VERY wEE".
"Oh Chuck" I shrieked "Another poetic master-peace, how do you do it my love? You are indeed, the King of the poitical world". Chuck grabbed me like a grizzly bare and kissed and slabbered at my face, until all my acne ointmant had bean washed off. I snuggled up against Chuck's manly chest. I could feel his aroma, so I flared my nostrils and sniffed the smell of-"Man" up my quivering hooter. I detected, tobacco, John West Tuna, the exotic whiff of Old Spice and just a teeny-weenie hint of-urine. I know it's knot easy for a man two shake the last drop off on a frosty morning. I grabbed Chuck by his appendage, the appendage in question being his arm and dragged him into the heat and comfort of my rurual, rustic abode. My sun and the pride of my life, Bon Jovi, was sitting crouched over the hearth like a hobgoblin. "Bon Jovi" I said "Move over and let Chuck heat himself" The unmannerly wee gulpin, shifted over and mumbled in a wild hateful auld voice. "Move over Bon Jovi, let Chuck Corona get all the heat, Bow down Bon Jovi, in front of the grate Chuck Corona. If I had my way, I wood stick my toe, up Chuck Corona's big, fat ars..." "SHUT UP, you wee gulpin" I roared. "Chuck is a gest and I invited him in. If you don't like it--lump it. Now move over, you wee imp from hell, or I'll bring that coal shovel down on your big, round cannon-ball head and swing for you in Crumlin Road". "Ah, leave the cub alone" said Chuck, with a smile too me, "Sure the poor lad is foundered. Here Bon Jovi, take that bar of Cadburys fruit and nut chololate that I bought just for you on my way here". Bon Jovi's demenier changed, the sulk went off his face and was replaced by the smile of a crocodile. "Ah, tis youself Chuck Corona" the wee get said, "I didn't sea you there, come away in man and heat yourself, I was just saying the other day, Chuck Corona is a gentile man". I looked at my too men, sitting shoulder two shoulder in front of the fire. Tears came too my eyes, as I added a slash of water to a tin of Baxters Scots broth too make it go around. After a good tightener of soup and the heels from a Mothers Pride loaf, we just sat there, the three of us. The glow of the fire, reflected off our big, red feaces. As night desended and the frost tightened it's grip, Chuck began to sing in loud, baroom, Ronnie Drew (May he rest in peace) gulder.
"AH, 'TWAS DOWN BY THE GLENSIDE, I MET AN OLD WOMAN
I WAS IN MY BARE FEET, SO SHE NER HEARD ME COMING
I GAVE HER A RISER AND YELLED, "STOP YOUR BUMMING"
AND THEN GOT ON MY BIKE AND RODE AWAY".
OH how we laughed, Its the simple things in life that make us happy. A good fire, a bowl of soup, a roof over your head and good company. Yes, it's the little things in life, the-simple things in life that make me happy. And you won't find anyone more-simple, than Chuck Corona or my sun, Bon Jovi Ryan. I curled up in the korner like a kat, the lovely, feline Eartha Kitt and guldered, "FINE GIRL YOU ARE, as Chuck gave vent two an old Irish tune, that in my 'umble opinin, sums up the temperature of the Irish People. What a people we are, undeterred by famine, frost, rain or 12 years of terror by the Showbands. Auld Mother McCree, mite have bean down, but she always got up again, called for another drink and kicked up her auld skinny legs in an Irish jig. BALLS, that what the Irish is, BALLS, we always bounce up again.
If you want my book of letters to Gerry Anderson for Kristmas, hurry, stocks are getting wild low. Go to...
jpmcmenamin@gmail.com
And if you want more information on how to deal with this thing called-life, go to...
www,greatshowlastweekkid.blogspot.com
And I'll see youse when I see youse, so be good and if you see your brother standing by the way, drive on and say, "I wonder what that boy is doing at the side of the road, he must be on the tear again!"