Gorta Mor (Part 7)

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The acrid cloying plumes of smoke filling the room emanating from behind the counter took the brothers by surprise. They immediately started choking back coughs. The room had a long row of stools lined up against the counter with a copper bar running the length of it. Further back in the room one could barely see a few random patrons at small tables huddled over glass mugs. Behind the counter two gentlemen stood. They looked like mirror images of each other, both wearing black slacks, white button down shirts, red suspenders, white aprons around their waists, full bushy mustaches, and the beginnings of hair loss at the crowns of their heads.

“Ah, customers!” One expounded to the other in an overly British accent.

“Why yes! Our first ever.” The other replied.

The brothers looked at each other in silence. What was this place? They thought as one mind. It certainly was unlike anything they could have imagined from the outside. They looked around the room once more.

“Um, what about those men over there?” Shamus asked.

“Men? Over there?” The first said to the second.

“Couldn’t possibly be, I think they came with the building.” The second replied back.

Shamus and Darbish were thinking that these two guys must have been cracked. Then again, they sounded British, and generally speaking that was the same thing to the brothers.

“So what is this place?” Darbish hazarded.

“Place?” The first countered, “This is not a mere place! It’s a pub! The very first on your native soil, no others exist in all of Ireland.”

“Yes! We really have the market cornered,” the second continued, “You see we bring a drink with us. Lager! It has amazing properties.”

“Properties?” Shamus asked suspiciously, “What kind of properties?”

“Try one, on the house.” The second stated, pulling two beers from the tap and placing them in front of the brothers.

Shamus looked confusedly to Darbish, “On the house? Surely we can just drink it here.” To this Darbish shrugged.

“Oh absolutely and certainly,” the first said, “it’s merely a saying we use back home to indicate that you will not have to pay for the drink. Free of charge, a gift, if you will from us to our very first and finest customers.”

The brothers eyed the drinks distrustfully and gave into their curiosity. As they brought the mugs up to their mouths the rims happened to tap each other and the owners hooted in unison, “Cheers!”

Both the brothers nearly spit out the lager immediately. The hopped up, carbonated fizz hit their pallets like sledgehammers on baby chicks. Their faces turned sour as the looked at each other and they both realized that they couldn’t let the other outdo them. They swallowed the drink and stared in disbelief at the bar keeps.

“That was horrendous.” Shamus started.

“Yes, and I felt no properties you spoke of.” Darbish added.

“Oh, ho ho ho,” The second laughed, “The first one is not where one feels the magic.”

“Not at all!” The first continued, “You need to keep imbibing to get to the magic. But I tell you what. Since you really are our first customers, and we would hate to make a bad impression of it. Let us let you drink your fill for free and you can decide at the end if there’s any magic there.”

-V-

Gorta Mor (Part 6)

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“And I suppose you think you can do something about it?” Gorta Mor said as he hefted himself up to twice the height of anyone else in the field.

“There are many ways we could stop you! Firstly we could restrain you.” Darbish started. Gorta Mor just smiled as the skies grew a little darker and the wind began to pick up.

“Then we will make you go back and replace every potato you destroyed.” A small cloud appeared above them and the breeze started to have little gusts.

“And then we will make you apologize to each and every person in Ireland personally.” Darbish was finding it harder to continue with the distracting and changing conditions around him, but he carried on as the small cloud expanded and the air bordered on a gale.

“Next, we will…” With each word shouted from Darbish’s mouth the conditions worsened ten fold, he tried to endure, “make… you…” He couldn’t keep on, the weather developed into insane bursts of thunder and lightning cracked in the near distance. No words would be heard over this tempest. So Darbish gave in and stopped his monolog.

With his last word uttered the world quickly returned to just as it was before. Gorta Mor launched into a hearty laugh. He took a deep breath and exhaled on the brothers. The blast of air knocked the brothers back, it was sickening and cloying. They both fell to the ground gasping for fresh air.

“Nothing you said had any affect puny man. There isn’t crumb diddly you can do to stop me. In fact, for your insolence I think I will take this girl as a payment. You have wasted enough of my time, now be gone with you!” Gorta Mor then picked up Jenny and moved off into the distance cursing the potatoes as he went.

The brothers, defeated, ambled down the road they came, kicking stones and thinking to themselves how weak they truly were. Shamus spotted a strange building in the distance; it was like no other the brothers had ever seen before. It had the word ‘Pub’ on its signage along with an etching of a yellowish stein and a frothy head spilling over it.

“What do you suppose that is?” Shamus asked Darbish.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen a shop called a ‘Pub’ before, it looks like they sell drinks. It must be some kind of eatery.”

“Shall we?”

“I don’t see why not, its not like we have anything better to do. Why couldn’t we do anything to help her?”

“Darbish, he had way more power than we will ever understand. I don’t think we ever stood a chance.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sure there’s a way to beat him, I just wish we knew what it was.” Darbish was pounding his fist in his hand as he said this. They looked at each other for a few moments and silently agreed that there was nothing they could have done. Heads hung low they entered the pub.

-V-

Read Part 7