It had got to that time of the evening. JP was sucking on his pipe. It had gone out a long time since. Mono was staring into the remnants of his pint as if the secret of life was somehow contained within the last inch of his Guinness. Rasher drained the last drop of his pint and snook out a quiet little belch. In silence, the three amigos stared in different directions as if eye contact would have been dangerous. A little oasis of calm had evolved at this slice of the pub. The vectors of each of their stares shifted every now and then, being careful not to cross. The silence got too much.
“Will we call another?”
“Do sure.”
“Bird never flew on one wing.”
“Jaysus. Our bird must have wings like an octopus.”
“More power.”
“Give Donleavy the nod.”
“Good man.”
The other two drained their pints in unison. A twin harmony of ‘aaah’ accompanied the replacement of the empty glasses on the bar counter. The vectors changed to parallel and they all looked into the mirror that ran the length of the area behind the bar.
“So.”
“Sow grass, sow plenty.”
Eyes lasered towards Donleavy as he consecutively topped up the three pints. Then cupping his hands around the three glasses the bar owner ferried the drinks the length of the bar and doled them out one by one onto fresh bar mats.
“Fair play.”
“’Atin’ and drinkin’”
“Mighty man.”
“Cheers lads.”
They each gave the incoming pints of Guinness the initial period of reverence the drink deserved and then – better than any synchronized diving team – they swooped on the black and white liquid and drank. Creamy residues were removed from lips with back handed relish.
“Great pint.”
“Best in town.”
“Donleavy’s the goat.”
Rasher and Mono. Looked at each other.
“The goat?”
“He’s the goat. No bout adoubt it.”
“The goat?”
“Ah lads. You’d want to keep up with the times. I got that from the daughter. You know. The one that just started college. Goat. Greatest Of All Time.”
Mono and Rasher looked at each other and eyes opened wider as the penny dropped slowly.
“Goat. Goat. Yeah. Yeah.”
“Oh yeah. Very good. That girl will keep you cool out.”
“Better believe it.”
A fresh attack on the pints took place.
“Speaking of college. Did you see the report on the rapes?”
“Yeah. Three rapes reported in the first week of the college term.”
` “Are you worried about the daughter JP. Like – her starting school in a new place. Not knowing people. Are you worried for her?”
“University Mono. Not school. I call it college and she bates the head off me. If she heard you call it school she’d do for you completely.”
“Well are you worried for her?”
“Naw. I’d be more worried for the poor innocent country lads that might have the misfortune to gain her attention. Sure she has a tongue on her that could lash the bark off a tree.”
“But we’re not talking about a conversation JP. What if she was attacked….and like….you know……”
“Jaysus. Lads. You’ve met her. She always said she knows nine places to kill a man. And I wouldn’t doubt her. She’s working on finding out the tenth.”
The crowd was beginning to swell in Donleavy’s. The decibels began to grow. The three amigos in unison spread out their bar stools to widen their counter patch. JP went through the ritual of relighting his pipe. A lot of sucking and blowing took place.
“D’ya know what the daughter was telling me?”
“The same daughter.”
“Yah. Her. She said they had classes in consent.”
“Consent?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh yeah – I heard about that. This is where one says, ‘can I ride ya’ and the other one says ‘fire away, mad’. And they almost both sign a pre-printed form. Am I right?”
“Well. Yeah. Basically.”
“Mad.”
“Yeah.”
“Bit different than our day.”
“You can whistle that.”
“I’ll give you the tune.”
JP sucked more on his pipe. Drank. Sucked. Drank. He pointed a finger in the air like a revelation had just descended and consumed him.
“D’ya know what?”
“What?”
“We had consent too.”
“We did like feck.”
“We did – it was just all in the way clothes were designed.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. The unspoken words crossed from one to the other and were transmitted by the raised frowns.
“It was consent in the clothes.”
“You’ll have to give us a clue, JP.”
“D’ya not remember? Are ya that old that yez have forgotten. Did either of you ever manage to open a bra hook? And even if you manged one hook there was always a set of them. Well did yez? Tell the truth now.”
There was no great yell of triumph.
“See. Ya did yer able best to release the hooks but they always bested you. So, after so much fumbling that the fire of a mood could go stone cold – she’d do it for you. See what I mean. That was consent to engage with the top deck. D’ya agree? I know ya do. But young ones today. There’s either no bra at all or a string or these magic cups that load from the bottom or just all sorts of things that fall away by themselves. See what I mean? These days there could be a dispute about whether you got a ticket to go to the top deck. We didn’t have that doubt.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Raised eyebrows and repeated head swaying indicated that they both thought JP might be on to something.
JP was in full flight. There was plumes of pipe smoke above his head as he sucked feverishly.
“I’m not finished. Lower deck was clothes controlled too. D’ya ‘member we used to boast that ‘her knickers were in a ball and stuck to the wall’? Well there was a good reason they were in a ball. Again – ya could never get them off by yourself. A couple of inches down and they’d have rolled into some unmanageable twisted mess that no amount of side to side, up and down persuasion would get them past mid-bum. So, what happened? She’d have to do it herself. And what was that? Consent. A ticket to the lower deck.
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. A curling of the edge of the mouth pointed towards some begrudging agreement.
“And there are no knickers today. Its either commando…or silk stuff that falls down by itself…or thongs.”
“Tongs? For putting coals on the fire of passion.”
“No. Thongs. Not tongs.”
“Ah for putting coals on the fire of passion with a lisp…”
“There’s no point in talking to you two.”
“Too true.”
“Let’s go for a battered sausage and chips.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
JP@Donleavy’s 