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May 1, 2017 / hbrowne4

The Weirdest Dream


(For Davey)

I was dreaming last night about the weirdest thing. There was this guy who had decided to breakfast in his garden as the weather was resplendent with spring blossoms and bird song.

Sadly for him, just as he reached for the marmalade a flock of rapacious sparrows, chirruping in heavy Cavan accents, descended from nowhere and in the blink of an eye they stripped his breakfast table of every consumable crumb.

In an almighty rage, our gallant hero rose up and grasping his trusty shovel he commenced to thrash about himself in a wild and undisciplined fashion to the extreme peril of his immediate surroundings and to all and sundry, with the signal exception of the offending culchie sparrows.

With much huffing and puffing this incompetent ornithologist swiped and bashed hither and thither with catastrophic effect on his precious household goods while the wily sparrows lined up on his clothes line, safely out of his reach, laughing raucously at his evident ineptitude.

The leader of the flock, an obvious dipper in the food trough at every opportunity and none, named Dominic shouted “You really should have forgotten your shovel today. If you were used to using feather duster you’d do less damage. That agricultural implement is more dangerous in your hands than the Mother of all Bombs was in Trumps. Why don’t you give over the faffing about, go inside and get more bread. We could sit down together and discuss this like civilised Christians, then, over a cup of tea and a slice of batch loaf”

“No way” Screamed our dozy friend “You guys have been robbing me blind all summer, and to add insult to injury, yesterday you offered to sell some of my bread back to me. Well it stops right now”

“How do you think you can stop us” Demanded a disparaging Dominick “You’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful to date. We’re just better at this kind of thing than you are”

“Hah, that’s what you think. I’m selling up and moving to Tuscany tomorrow. You guys aren’t swallows so you can’t follow me there, so hasta la vista dudes”

“Oh bugger” snarled Dominick “He’s right you know, we should move next door and persecute old Mrs Brennan”



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