This is a page where you can read short excerpts from my stories
Excerpt(1) From, A day in the life of Saint Peter.
Mrs. Flynnegan approached his podium, she had been pre-cleared for entry to heaven despite having nagged her poor husband to death, but it wasn’t grounds to send her to the other place. St Peter could tell by the look on her face that she was not in a great mood but he smiled anyway. “Welcome to heaven Mrs. Flynnegan,” he said.
“Two weeks… ! Two whole weeks outside there, lined up with all that human riff-raff and the scum of humanity waiting to be processed, did you know there’s Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Atheists and God knows what else out there---- I hope those vagrants and beggars don’t think they’re coming in here.”
“Now, now, Mrs. Flynnegan they’re all God’s children and believe me, they have more of a chance of getting in here than a crooked politician, and you’re right about one thing, God does know they’re out there, come on, we’ll have you settled in, in no time.”
“Well it’s not what I expected.” She said as she ran her finger along the padding on St Peter’s podium. “Doesn’t anyone clean around here? Those Pearly Gates could do with a good cleaning, you’re not very well organized in here and where’s my dog FiFi? the pope said that all dogs go to heaven now, was he lying? It wouldn’t surprise me, who’s in charge around here? And where’s that useless weasel of a husband of mine he should have been here to meet me, didn’t anyone tell him my exact time of death? Where is he? I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
St Peter never batted an eyelid, he had heard it all before and had grown quite used to it, nothing bothered him, he simply dipped his feather quill into the ink well and proceeded to write in his ledger.
“Sorry Mrs. Flynnegan but you died two weeks ago, your husband was probably here waiting for you, maybe he just went to get a cup of tea.” Peter cast his eyes up to Heaven, well, this was Heaven so he just cast his eyes up thinking to himself, Sorry God, I know it’s a little white lie but the poor man asked me not to tell her that he had remarried up here.
Mrs Flynnegan was still ranting. “You should get some help, we shouldn’t have to wait outside for weeks with every low-life on the planet; There’s drunks, pimps, whores, politicians, drug addicts, murderers and even that president fella, the one that started all those wars, don’t tell me he’s getting in here and what about all the homeless people out there camped along the wall? I don’t want to be in here with those smelly maggots.”
Peter became aware of a man glaring at him, he glanced at the man.
“Where are my virgins? I was promised 62 virgins,” the man said.
Mrs. Flynnegan approached his podium, she had been pre-cleared for entry to heaven despite having nagged her poor husband to death, but it wasn’t grounds to send her to the other place. St Peter could tell by the look on her face that she was not in a great mood but he smiled anyway. “Welcome to heaven Mrs. Flynnegan,” he said.
“Two weeks… ! Two whole weeks outside there, lined up with all that human riff-raff and the scum of humanity waiting to be processed, did you know there’s Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Atheists and God knows what else out there---- I hope those vagrants and beggars don’t think they’re coming in here.”
“Now, now, Mrs. Flynnegan they’re all God’s children and believe me, they have more of a chance of getting in here than a crooked politician, and you’re right about one thing, God does know they’re out there, come on, we’ll have you settled in, in no time.”
“Well it’s not what I expected.” She said as she ran her finger along the padding on St Peter’s podium. “Doesn’t anyone clean around here? Those Pearly Gates could do with a good cleaning, you’re not very well organized in here and where’s my dog FiFi? the pope said that all dogs go to heaven now, was he lying? It wouldn’t surprise me, who’s in charge around here? And where’s that useless weasel of a husband of mine he should have been here to meet me, didn’t anyone tell him my exact time of death? Where is he? I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
St Peter never batted an eyelid, he had heard it all before and had grown quite used to it, nothing bothered him, he simply dipped his feather quill into the ink well and proceeded to write in his ledger.
“Sorry Mrs. Flynnegan but you died two weeks ago, your husband was probably here waiting for you, maybe he just went to get a cup of tea.” Peter cast his eyes up to Heaven, well, this was Heaven so he just cast his eyes up thinking to himself, Sorry God, I know it’s a little white lie but the poor man asked me not to tell her that he had remarried up here.
Mrs Flynnegan was still ranting. “You should get some help, we shouldn’t have to wait outside for weeks with every low-life on the planet; There’s drunks, pimps, whores, politicians, drug addicts, murderers and even that president fella, the one that started all those wars, don’t tell me he’s getting in here and what about all the homeless people out there camped along the wall? I don’t want to be in here with those smelly maggots.”
Peter became aware of a man glaring at him, he glanced at the man.
“Where are my virgins? I was promised 62 virgins,” the man said.

(2) Excerpt from my book, The Fadreen. The conversation is between three ten year-olds
Set in Kilkenny 1852.
“What does that mean, The cows come home…? Frankie said. Where were they?”
Tommy glared at him. “Listen to me boy, you should become a peeler (cop) because you ask stupid questions just like the peelers.”
I admired Frankie because he asked the questions I wouldn’t ask for fear that I’d be thought of as being stupid. “The cows come home, is an expression Frankie, it’s like some ejit telling a woman he’d wait for her until the cows come home, meaning he’d wait for her forever. They’re never coming home, alright?”
“I don’t get it….. Why would you wait for a woman that’s never going to show up?” Tommy looked at us. “I’ve had enough of you two shaggers for one day, I’m going home this bishop’s apple tart is giving me a belly ache I think they put too much sugar in it.”
“We’ll have to talk to them about that.” I said and winked at Frankie, but Tommy just glared at us with a disturbed look on his face.
“What the hell is a shagger anyway Tommy?” Frankie said.
“You two are shaggers, I’m going home.” Tommy said and left.
Frankie looked at me. “Do you know what a shagger is Jimmy?”
“No I’ve heard of a sheep shagger but I don’t know what he does, I think he makes shaggy carpets out of sheep’s wool, Timmy Hooligan is a shagger.”
“A sheep shagger?”
“No Frankie, an ordinary shagger, I heard missus Hooligan tell auld Pratt that her husband was a useless shagger and now he can’t do anything because he has a case of shagger’s back.”
“Jazus boy.”
“Yeah and when she left the shop auld Pratt told missus Kelly that that was a good thing because she had too many kids anyway, what the hell has shagging got to do with having kids?”
“I don’t know boy.”
We went home. I wasn’t going to ask me mother what a shagger was.
Set in Kilkenny 1852.
“What does that mean, The cows come home…? Frankie said. Where were they?”
Tommy glared at him. “Listen to me boy, you should become a peeler (cop) because you ask stupid questions just like the peelers.”
I admired Frankie because he asked the questions I wouldn’t ask for fear that I’d be thought of as being stupid. “The cows come home, is an expression Frankie, it’s like some ejit telling a woman he’d wait for her until the cows come home, meaning he’d wait for her forever. They’re never coming home, alright?”
“I don’t get it….. Why would you wait for a woman that’s never going to show up?” Tommy looked at us. “I’ve had enough of you two shaggers for one day, I’m going home this bishop’s apple tart is giving me a belly ache I think they put too much sugar in it.”
“We’ll have to talk to them about that.” I said and winked at Frankie, but Tommy just glared at us with a disturbed look on his face.
“What the hell is a shagger anyway Tommy?” Frankie said.
“You two are shaggers, I’m going home.” Tommy said and left.
Frankie looked at me. “Do you know what a shagger is Jimmy?”
“No I’ve heard of a sheep shagger but I don’t know what he does, I think he makes shaggy carpets out of sheep’s wool, Timmy Hooligan is a shagger.”
“A sheep shagger?”
“No Frankie, an ordinary shagger, I heard missus Hooligan tell auld Pratt that her husband was a useless shagger and now he can’t do anything because he has a case of shagger’s back.”
“Jazus boy.”
“Yeah and when she left the shop auld Pratt told missus Kelly that that was a good thing because she had too many kids anyway, what the hell has shagging got to do with having kids?”
“I don’t know boy.”
We went home. I wasn’t going to ask me mother what a shagger was.