Padraig And Lorcan

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Lorcan, Padraig replied, if I grant that there is merit in your 'overarching treatise' (and I see you have been in my new stash of books), what about our customary monetary concerns? Why the fuck have you had me lugging around this sack of discarded metal vessels, drained of their libations it is the poet in me that eulogizes them so when you don't even want to get some money back? I mean, we owe it to ourselves, no? As citizens. Late of the Beara Peninsula. And of Cleveland, usa. Two entrepreneurs, down on their luck, in southwest Detroit. We've already paid for the deposit. Or are you a man insistent on financial suicide? Lorcan stared at his slightly less disheveled companion, he of the cleanshaven face and, weirdly, bloodshot-free eyes, and thought what he normally thought of Padraig in those final moments before his friend/box-mate passed out, with his glorious knack of never having his head land in the fire that emanated from a flower pot on the towel-covered, asphalt floor of their park95 ing lot abode. Padraig. God knows we've scammed our way left and right across the flat-chested middle of this country. Let me make two points. Point the first: you're a twat. Lord love a twat, though, when the twat honestly believes he has been pressed into the service of his art, as you do. No matter that you're horrible at it. But fear not: I have an opportunity for us to redress this matter. Which brings me to point the second: it is time for us to give back to this community from which we've profited over the years. A grand communal gesture is incumbent upon us. There was no wind, but the other bums scattered in groups of two or three around the disused drive-in theater premises were all in agreement that there had never been a colder late October. It was the stuff of everyone's conversation. Even straight-laced Don Mulch so named because he had worked as a mulch spreader for Don's Proprietary Landscaping (a favorite of wealthy hedge-fund funded widows) was drinking a good two bottles of Listerine a day to keep the cold out. Profited? You told me last winter after we made our escape from Cleveland with the coppers only just a tad too dumb to find us that if my finger didn't turn back to a flesh color in the next fourteen hours (and what