• Home
  • Story 1 A day in the life of Saint Peter.
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Story 3 The Deep South.
  • Story 2 The Crying Princess
  • Blog
  • Home
  • Story 4 Nora Flynn.
  • Story 5 The new Purchase
  • Story 6 Spaguto Lezuki
  • Excerpt from, The Fadreen
  • Story 7 Message in a bottle
  • Story 8 Seanie Fagan, Deceased.
  • Story 9 Sproggy Clumperdink
  • Excerpts from my stories
  • Story 10 PJ's Story.
  • Story 11 Scrapper Simpson
  • Story 12 The Green Fiddle.
  • Story 13 The Running Ejit.
Fádreen .
  • Home
  • Story 1 A day in the life of Saint Peter.
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Story 3 The Deep South.
  • Story 2 The Crying Princess
  • Blog
  • Home
  • Story 4 Nora Flynn.
  • Story 5 The new Purchase
  • Story 6 Spaguto Lezuki
  • Excerpt from, The Fadreen
  • Story 7 Message in a bottle
  • Story 8 Seanie Fagan, Deceased.
  • Story 9 Sproggy Clumperdink
  • Excerpts from my stories
  • Story 10 PJ's Story.
  • Story 11 Scrapper Simpson
  • Story 12 The Green Fiddle.
  • Story 13 The Running Ejit.

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 wri
te 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.


Picture
(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.

Picture
​(3) Excerpt from The Crying Princess (adult fairy tale, not x rated just not a children's tale)
“Wait,” said the princess, “we still don’t know what he wants in return.”
            “What do you want in return little hunchback man?”
            “He doesn’t like to be called that.” the princess said.
            “I couldn’t care less, I have twenty peasants out there waiting to be hanged, the Queen of Sheba and the bishop of Seville are coming today, I don’t want them kept awake all night by this one bawling.”
            “I’ll do the best I can sir,” said the little hunchback.
            “What can I give you in return? She says you have no interest in gold and silver and rubies and diamonds.”
            “I’ll take her off your hands.”
            “No!” shouted the princess
            “I have a house made from gold and silver and rubies and diamonds.”
            “That’s good enough for me,” said the king. “The brat has been spoiled rotten from day one, we gave her everything she asked for, she got witches, wizards, jesters, dwarfs and fools to keep her entertained; She could cast a spell or put a curse on you when she was only six, she made her own poisons, she had her own torture chamber and even her own personal hangman with plenty of peasants to hang; Where did we go wrong?”
            “She’ll settle in grand in my place,” the little hunchback said.
            “I’ll kill his monkey.”
            “Let’s just forget the whole thing and I’ll be on my way.”
            “Chop his head off daddy.”
            “You’re all a bunch of fucking nuts, I’m out of here.”
            “Oh no you’re not,” the queen said and grabbed little Lassie, she held her up to the princess…….
Click on the story above to finish reading. The Crying Princess.

Picture
​(4) Excerpt from Spaguto Lezuki. (read the entire story on this website)
 
“That man that you sent to have his head chopped off, he and your father have been laughing and drinking all day, they’ve been in the banquet hall feasting for hours,” the servant said.
            “WHAT? WHAT? I don’t believe this, get out of my way you hairy faced fool.” she said as she stormed off to the banquet hall.
            “Ah, my dear, come, come, I want you to meet my new friend, this is Seth, he comes from the future, he’s been telling me all about how stupid the world will become in 2020.”
            “I don’t want to hear anything about it, I sent him here to have his head chopped off.”
            “Nonsense my dear come and listen, he tells of people walking around taking selfies and talking into a little box that people can hear thousands of miles away.”         
“Stop, stop it father you’re drunk, he’s making a fool out of you, people in the future will be educated and intelligent, I won’t listen to this drivel.”
            “No, No daughter you have to listen, go ahead Seth tell her what a selfie is.”
            “Well princess, a selfie is like a painting of your own image, you hold the little box at arm’s length and smile, then a flash of light goes off and low and behold you can then send that image anywhere in the world instantly so that total strangers can look at it and see what you look like, then they in turn will send you images of their fat little children and their dogs dressed up in Christmas costumes.”
            “He’s quite mad father, why would millions of strangers want to see an image of someone they don’t even know? And who wants to see images of their fat children?”
            “It’s entertainment, people take thousands of selfies every day, you can also send an image of a meal before you eat it so that the same strangers can envy you and say, ‘what a wonderful time he’s having,’ then you can send an image of the empty plate. I sent one today of you on your pig, It’s bound to get a million likes.”
            “He’s out of his mind and a danger to the public father, off with his head, I insist, and what kind of a name is Seth anyway, who would name a child Seth?”
The king got excited. “Wait a minute future-man, do you mean to say you brought this little magic selfie box with you?” he said.
            “Yes king, your henchmen took it when they brought me here, it’s in my bag.”
The king sent for Seth’s bag. “Bring it here immediately you chicken brained mongrels, I’ll have your heads off,” he roared.
The servants brought the bag on the end of a long pole, a look of sheer terror on their faces. “There’s someone in there your highness, tiny devils, I beg you please don’t open the bag it’s a trick.”
            “Nonsense you imbeciles, it’s his magic box for sending selfies around the world, the man is  a highly educated genius, he comes from the future, Go, leave.”
The servants didn’t wait to be told twice they scattered off in all directions like terrified rabbits.
“Uneducated Neanderthals, I’m surrounded by fools,” the king roared.
But Seth understood the servant’s terror and for the first time he regretted choosing that particular ringtone, because the voice in the phone was saying, “It’s me, it’s your phone, answer me, answer me, hello, hello, answer me.” it repeated. The king jumped up and grabbed his sword. “Stand back future-man,” he shouted. The princess screamed, the court jesters stood terrified, the servants ran away followed by a scatter of terrified midgets.

 
Picture
(5) Excerpt from Sproggy Clumperdink. (adult fairy story)

“Well you have to admit Wonky you did turn some of our dogs into cats and such.”                

“I would never do such a thing, you know me.”                                                “Well, maybe you didn’t mean it but half the dogs in town are now cats.”           
"I bet it was Sproggy, I gave him one of my old wands to practice on, he was only supposed to make cats afraid of mice."                                                                          

“Well he has squirrels barking like dogs and chasing wagons, he has rabbits laying eggs and chickens grunting like pigs and flying all over the place, chickens are not supposed to fly Wonky.”                                                                                                    
“Yes----- Yes, this is more serious than I thought, I, I actually taught him how to do a few other things that I really can’t really talk about right now.”                                                                                         
“You WHAT? You mean like casting spells and stuff?”
“Well, sort of, but I’ll fix it, I’ll go see my cousin in Smellyriver tomorrow, he’ll straighten the little bastard out."            

“Good, but in the meantime he’s getting better on that broomstick thing, how the hell does it fly anyway Wonky?”  An official asked. 
“Well I can’t divulge a thousand years of skill and expertise that have gone into its development, I mean, you’d have every half-wit in the country flying around creating havoc in the skies, look at Clumperdink for example. However in a nutshell it’s a concoction of thermo dynamic rays interacting with rotating cosmic proton particles producing positive centrifugal force energy which allows for pressurized atmospheric osmotic propulsion resulting in opposing gravity pull.”                            

“Oh…. that’s what I thought.”
Well, there were no more questions, the townspeople had a renewed faith in Wonky and were beginning to think that Sproggy had been behind all the nastiness that old Wonky had been blamed for. But now that Sproggy had gotten the taste for wizardry and had acquired a few wizard-like skills it wasn’t going to be an easy task to bring him to a screeching halt, no sirée Bob.  The mayor’s office had to act fast as townspeople were talking about taking matters into their own hands, there was already a bunch of religious nuts surrounding Sproggy’s house and showering it with Holy water blessed by that self professed preacher Joey Olteen himself. This only fuelled Sproggy’s anger and he started a series of house fires by throwing fireballs now instead of snowballs. Several attempts the shoot him down with arrows and cannonballs failed as he was as fast now as a streak of lightening. A reward for his capture was posted by emperor Bushy Bush. “We have an old saying in the west, Bushy said, “Wanted, Dead or Alive.”
“How the hell did that fool ever become emperor?” Rita Rickenbaum said.

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • Story 1 A day in the life of Saint Peter.
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Story 3 The Deep South.
  • Story 2 The Crying Princess
  • Blog
  • Home
  • Story 4 Nora Flynn.
  • Story 5 The new Purchase
  • Story 6 Spaguto Lezuki
  • Excerpt from, The Fadreen
  • Story 7 Message in a bottle
  • Story 8 Seanie Fagan, Deceased.
  • Story 9 Sproggy Clumperdink
  • Excerpts from my stories
  • Story 10 PJ's Story.
  • Story 11 Scrapper Simpson
  • Story 12 The Green Fiddle.
  • Story 13 The Running Ejit.