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The Mick Resurfaces NOW IF THE DAMN QUEEN WOULD ONLY GET HER ACT TOGETHER Pat O'Shaughnessy patos patoshaughnessy@juno.com The Mick was relaxing it was a beautiful Saturday morning; the sun just beginning to rise.The Mick twitched his line trying to goad a fish to bite. He would normally work Sat. mornings but because he did not have 40 hrs in that week Hagar was not about to pay him overtime today. The Mick had a firm rule about working weekends for straight time. Not.
His watch alarm signaled 6:00 am ; time to eat. The Mick opened his cooler and unwrapped his breakfast reached down pulled out a bottle and opened it. Cold Nunzio's pizza and ice cold R&H the breakfast of champions. Life doesn't get any better than this. Fishing on a spring morning, watching the sun rise and and cold beer and pizza for breakfast. This was the good life. As the Mick was finishing his first slice it dawned on him that sometime in the ancient past there must have been some Irishman that taught the Italians how to cook. He found it hard to believe that something this good could have been invented without Irish influence. He wondered why there was not anything mentioned in history not even one legend about it. As he opened his next beer it occurred to him the very spot where he was now had it's own legend that was supposed to be based upon fact. A long time ago legend had it that a Troll had lived under a wooden bridge that had crossed the stream. The troll had terrorized the area . It had a nasty habit of of reaching up from under the bridge and grabbing unsuspecting cows, pigs, dogs or fat little children and devouring them whole. It particularly liked fat little children but had to monitor there intake because with age it had developed cholesterol problems. Now the people were enraged that the local government was doing nothing about it. That was because the Boro Manager at that time was Rufus B.B. Clinton. He was a reverse carpetbagger from the South who had absconded north after many rumors of improprieties. B.B. stood for Billy Bob because as with many young southern girls no one was actually sure if his father was Billy or Bob. Hence the name Billy Bob. The people showed up at a meeting at boro hall one night and demanded something had to be done. Now Clinton wanted no more trouble with the King especially since he had dallied with some of Andrew's mistresses and had gotten caught. An expert liar he had convinced the King he was only acting as a beard so the Queen would not find out about the Kings own misdeeds. Clinton was a scoundrel. No course of action was to low for him. He went to Manhattan and picked out two pudgy little girls from the Manhattan Orphan and Half Orphan Asylum. For the next six months these little girls were fed only crumbuns, buttered rolls, and Charlotte Russe. They were only allowed to drink egg cremes, chocolate malts, and ice cream sodas. They were not allowed to move around much and after six months there were very pudgy. Another development of this isolation was that they would talk between bytes. If the other had her mouth full the first would answer her own question or reply to her own statement. Since there was no outside contact with others except when trays were being brought in they assumed they were always right no matter what the subject. Clinton's plan was despicable he had new dresses made up for both girls with hemlock sewed into all the seams. He was going to place the girls on a rock near the bridge and when the troll grabbed the girls ate them whole the hemlock in the dresses would poison the Troll and the problem solved. Because these girls were orphans no one would miss them and he would receive no complaints upon their demise. Early one morning he took the girls down by the bridge and placed them on a rock to sit he gave them one crumb bun each and instructed them not to move. He had the street department close and barricade the bridge two days before so the troll would be extremely hungry , He left confident that in a few minutes the troll would have ingested the poison. Trolls don't like sunlight that's why they live under bridges because sunlight hurts their eyes. The girls were soon done with there crumb buns. With nothing else to do they proceeded to chatter. The troll was trapped by the light but had to listen to their endless babble after about 5 hrs the troll ran out from under the bridge holding his hands over his ears. The poor troll had been driven mad by all the drivel he had heard from these two. He stomped down threw the stream as he charged away making marks on the rocks that lined the stream. Now every thing was fine except people got tired of hearing these two girls babble on and demanded they be banned forever. Clinton was forced from office and many said that they preferred the trolls. Clinton then raised money and started a program called the Orphan Wagon Train. He placed 30 other orphans on the wagon train. The idea was to move them out west where they would be adopted by families who would care for them. By the time they got to pleasant plains all the children with the exception of the chit-chat sisters had run away to find some peace and quiet. Clinton led the train himself he later abandoned that job to take a position as a piano player in a bawdy house outside Trenton New Jersey. The money wasn't that good but he loved the benefits. The good people of the Island had to raise more money. It took eight months and five drivers to get them from the Island to Springfield Mo.. After they arrived there no one ever heard from them again. Possibly because no one ever bothered to check on them. They must have survived because though because their descendants now haunt bars, doctors waiting rooms, and web sites. Modern wisdom is if you ignore them long enough hopefully they will go awayand bother someone else. He wondered how much of this was true. Was he sitting on the very rock that these girls had sat on and what were those strange hoof marks on the rocks in the stream. No one has been bothered by trolls since that day although some unconfirmed sightings had been reported. Just then he felt a tug on his line; setting the hook he knew he was going to have beer battered fish for supper tonight.



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