St. Patrick’s Day, a day celebrated annually on March
17th. It dates the death of the patron saint of Ireland, Saint
Patrick. In the spirit of my Irish roots I thought this story of my grandmothers,
a true Irish lass, is one that fits today quite well.
So here’s the story:
When I was 16 my friends and I were downtown when we
noticed a new storefront. Being curious we walked in where we found a lad standing
behind the counter with all kinds of utensils. He held a microphone and was broadcasting
out to the street goers in attempt to bring in customers. He was one of those
people who had the pitter-patter that could sell you on anything, but that day no
one was biting. Pathetically, he asked us if we would just pretend to buy so
maybe he could draw some people in. “I'll give you your money back.” He told
us. What’s the harm in that? We said sure, he started his pitter-patter and we
bought everything he was selling.
Still, no one came in. We got bored and told him we were leaving, so we stood
and waited for him to give us our money back. He didn’t budge. This was all the
money we had to live on. Gone, for now that is. I said to my friends to wait
here, I’d be right back. Down a few blocks was there was a pool hall where all
the town thugs hung out. I walked in and told them my story. A few minutes
later I walked back into the store with 5 big, tattooed, scruffy lads by my
side. Two stood by the door, their tattooed muscled arms crossed and three
walked right up to the storeowner. “We understand you owe these girls some
money.” As fast as you can blink an eye our money was back in our hands. By
morning the storefront was closed.
Moral of this story, don't mess with an Irish Lass.
