Monahan and Deasy were taking their daily walk, engaging in their annual reminiscence about St. Patrick’s Days gone by.
“I grew up in a world of step dancing, bagpipe lessons, green clothes, and A.O.H. meetings,” Deasy said.
“So did I,” Monahan replied. I even tried to learn to speak Gaelic, but it was too hard.”
Deasy, as always, couldn’t help boasting, “I met R.F.K. at his last St. Patrick’s Day Parade.”
“You’ve just admitted, old boy,” Monahan insisted, “that you’re exactly as old and decrepit as that piano.”
Happy Friday and St. Patrick’s Day, even though it’s neither. Here’s my latest entry for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Toora Loora Loora.