The Running With The Bulls

“Sure, yhar won over there is maaad fer da mickey.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t want anything to do with her?”

“ Feckin SURE she’s a ride, Id eat chips out of her knickers.”

“I thought as much,” Coop replied grinning.

 

Glow found Coop as Sean was nearly trampled by a girl twice his size as she stumbled off the dance floor.

“Feks sake, sit d’ hell down barrel arse and take the weight off the floor” The girl regained her composure, taking a moment to tidy herself up.  Then she looked at Sean with stone eyes and a stiff upper lip.

“Fek off, ya liitle fart of a fella.”  She replied in a calm, even tone.

“Budweiser, they had those here?”  Coop said in disbelief as Glow handed him a frosty one.

“In short supply, drink up,” Glow replied.

“Thank you.  Oh Sean this is Timmy. Timmy, Sean.”

“How’s she cutting Timmy?”

“Good, I think?” Glow replied, confused by the slang.

“Hey, you see JJ?” Coop asked.

“Yeah, he’s been shacking up in that dark corner all night.” Glow said, nodding in the direction.

“Yup, there he is,” Coop said, crooning around to get a better view.  At first, JJ was just a dark shape with his back toward them, eclipsed by a larger dark shape.  Then as the pair turned with the music it became apparent JJ was swapping spit with the very girl that had just about trampled little Sean. “OH AWFUL, just awful.” Coop exclaimed, losing his composure.

Jaaaysus, that fatso?  I’ve seen better heads ina field chewin’ grass.”                              “Surprised  Coop?” Glow asked, giggling with amusement.

 

The night had grown old fast.  The music stopped and the bartender announced last call.  It was closing time as the lights turned on overhead, bright enough to make most squint.   The doors opened up and the greater majority of the  Shebeen’s occupants spilled outside into a sandy lot.  The regular patrons never moved from their stools.

“Djasee yhar waan over thar?  That fella’s off his nut.” Sean said of Gordo.”

“Bang on thar Bud,” Coop said, speaking tongue-in-cheek.

Sean graciously bid Coop and Glow farewell before going his own way.

 

“Jimmy, Jimmy, d’ya want a fag me lad?” Gordo asked as he smoked one himself.  He was surrounded by party girls, planning their after-hours, giggling at his antics and court jester-like personality.

“Steve, let’s go.”

“What?  Na, I’ll have nona dat, meet me ladies.”

“STEVE!  You’re talking in a bad Irish accent BRO! It’s embarrassing and I imagine insulting.”  Coop said, practically lifting Gordo off his feet as he grabbed his arm, influencing his direction.

“But what about AFTIES?”

“NO!,” Glow and Coop said, unintentionally in unison.

They continued to walk together back to the jeep, unaccustomed to finding the streets vacant and quiet.

“Where’s Jason, Jim?” Gordo asked sheepishly, leaning on Coop as his legs began to fail him.

“Missing in action.”

“M.I.A? What are we goanna do!?

“Sleep in the jeep till he comes back, what choice do we have?”

 

The three were just closing their eyes; Coop and Glow in the front with the seats reclined and Gordo in the back, his hairy legs draped over the center console.                                                  “I didn’t realize I was doing that.  Speaking like that was so addicting.” Gordo said to Coop in a sorrowful whisper.

“I know it tis Lad,  it’s ok.”

The night ended just as it had begun, with much ado about nothing.  The pink splendor of a pre-dawn sky and the songs of birds heralded in the sunrise of a new day.