JP, Rasher and Mono took their bar stools at the counter in ‘Donleavy’s’. They had taken their usual route – under cover of darkness – through the back gate of ‘Donleavy’s’ and via the storeroom into the bar. Donleavy looked as if he had got smaller every time they came into the bar. Guess when Donleavy started keeping his pub premises illegally open during Covid – he didn’t envisage it would go on for this length of time. But the stress was clearly weighing him down. He was shrinking in front of their eyes. How he was even keeping the bar stocked was any man’s guess. But if it could be done through prohibition in the US in the 1920’s – well then it was always possible in the 2020’s.
The three amigos took their usual position at the bar counter – JP in the middle flanked by his two trusty outriders. Donleavy used to hover behind the bar on twinkle toes but now as he approached them it seemed like he was dragging himself through quicksand.
“Usual, gents?”
“Are there bears in the woods?”
“Is the Pope a Catholic?”
“Does Donald tell porkies?”
The settling of buttocks on the barstools was always accompanied by a moment of Buddhist mindfulness as each man allowed a non-judgmental slowing down of the body and the brain. Only when there were three creamy pints in front of the group followed by a synchronized swallow followed by a deep expression of ‘aaaah’, did they allow themselves to speak.
“Still big numbers today, lads?”
“Yeah.”
“Not too many fatalities thou’. At least compared to usual”
“Somethin’ to be thankful.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“You’d bleedin’ drink to anythin’.”
They did indeed drink to the reduced number of people who shuffled off this mortal coil at the hands of ‘Rona’. There were little enough items to celebrate these days so a few less dead was still worth raising a glass towards. JP’s line of vision was by now lasered on a particular bottle within the bank of spirits. Donleavy tended to keep all the slow-moving stock together in the one area of the bar shelving. From the line of JP’s sight, the best guess would have been that the object of focus was a bottle of Turkish Raki. Not much call for Turkish Raki within the clientele of ‘Donleavy’s’ unless someone brought in their paint brushes for cleaning. This was a porter, ale, and lager establishment. JP was wondering where and when that Raki bottle was added to the pub decoration.
“Hey lads. What are the Covid figures like in Turkey?”
“Wha’?”
“Why are ya askin’? Why would ya care?”
“No reason.”
“Bleedin’ weird if ya ask me.”
“Was anyone askin’ ya?”
“Yeah – you asked me.”
JP couldn’t actually argue with that. The logic was sound.
He had been to Turkey once. A week in Kusadasi. It had been too bloody hot. That was the only memory he kept. He certainly didn’t drink any Raki when he was there. That was for sure. It would be a long time before anyone went to Turkey on holidays again. Not just him and those in his network – but anyone.
“Hey lads. The airlines are in trouble, wha’?”
“Yeah – banjoed. No one travellin’.”
“D’ya think this is good for the planet?”
“Cant hurt.”
“With all the planes on the ground and everyone W.F.H. and not travellin’ – d’ole polar caps will be freezin’ better again.”
“Yeah. If we could only stop the cows fartin’ – we’d be minted.”
The boys had a good laugh at that one. Mono squeezed one out just to add to the fun.
“Jayzus, Mono. Wha’ d’ya have for lunch?”
“Yer rotten, Ya bowsie.”
JP was trying to remember what Kusadasi even looked like. It had been a while. He guessed that it had beaches and hotels and restaurants and bars. Probably could have been any beach resort in the world except the menus were in Turkish.
“Hey, thou’. The world will change thou’ wont it?”
“Wha’? If the cows stop fartin’?”
“Naw, ya clown. Wont all the cities change? Not as much office workers. Offices needed to be changed into apartments. Much more people livin’ in the city. All tha’ sort of stuff?”
“Jayzus yer right. Will car sales go down?”
“Roads become emptier?”
“Could happen.”
“Then the cows can keep fartin’?”
“Could be a runner.”
“Let’s go get a batterburger to celebrate. Might as well stockpile on burgers.”
“Sounds like a plan. Burger and chips on the way home. Take our mind off ‘Rona’ Give Donleavy the nod there.”
Just another night in ‘Donleavy’s’.
JP@Donleavy’s 