The Butcher Boy Page #5

- Let them cut their own grass verges.

- That's a hardy day, isn't it?

Think they'd do it?

No, but they're quick enough to annoy me

when they take the notion.

"Oh, you missed a bit here," he says.

"You missed a bit there."

F*** him and his grass verges.

Me that fought with Michael Collins

in the troubled times.

- Which Collins was that, now?

- There you are, Jimmy.

I was wondering about this grass verge

over here at the side.

Oh, aye, oh, aye.

Oh, surely, Father. Do you know what?

- Wasn't I about to cut it this very minute?

- Well, you have to keep on top of them.

- Can't afford to let it go for a minute.

- No, you cannot, indeed, Father.

Well, them bogmen liked their porridge.

They certainly did.

Mind you,

the old school wasn't that bad.

And it was the best school in the world

the day that old letter came from Joe.

- You know where I met Joe first?

- Joe who?

Who do you think? Joe Purcell.

I don't know any Joe Purcell.

Man, but you're a bogman.

Joe Purcell,

the boy who wrote this letter.

I never get any letters.

- Well, aren't youse gonna ask me?

- Ask you what?

Where I met him first.

Where did you meet him first?

It was at the fountain.

- It was at the fountain.

- There aren't any fountains around our way.

"Dear Francie, you idiot.

What were you doing?

Were you trying to burn down

the Nugents' house?

There's all sorts of stories about you.

You'll have to lay off Phillip.

Phillip isn't that bad."

At first I thought it was a joke...

Joe saying Phillip won a goldfish

at the carnival and gave it to him.

Phillip at the carnival with Joe?

I knew it was a joke.

But then, I says, maybe it wasn't.

Maybe Phillip did win a goldfish.

And worst of all, maybe Joe took it.

"Times are tough, Jimmy," he says.

A shilling rise is all he could manage.

Maybe next year.

F***ing sky pilot!

I'd give them that.

You see?

If you were friends with someone...

and this other person

gave you a goldfish...

the other person

you were friends with...

would you take it?

If who gave it to you?

The other fella.

Bedad, now. I wouldn't know.

I wouldn't know much about goldfishes in the

heel of the hunt to be straight with you.

Okay.

Doesn't matter anyway.

I thought about it for a while.

Then I says, I won't think about it.

I won't. I won't. I won't.

There won't be no more

goldfish and carnivals for me.

Goldfish and carnivals...

the end.

I'm glad to see you're

learning manners, Francie.

Thank you, Father.

Now...

So I've seen them all come and go.

Since the very first day I came here

as a fresh, young curate myself.

There's our founder, Francie, now.

Father Cleary.

Is it, now, indeed, Father?

"Was it him founded the school

for bogmen with bony arses?" I says.

I did, like f***.

Father Cleary had a saying:

"No boy is so bad that you can't find

a scrap of goodness in him."

But what did Joe have to take it for?

Why, why, why?

Why didn't he say, "Sorry, Phillip.

You can keep your goldfish.

You're nothing to do with us "?

Then it came to me.

Joe only took the goldfish

so there would be peace between us all.

And when I came home, me and Joe

would just carry on the way we had.

The devil makes work for idle hands,

you see, Francie.

And there's no flitter of badness

that good, fresh country air...

and hard work can't cure.

And that was the end of the goldfish,

because from now on I was gonna be good.

If anyone was looking for Francie the

Bad Bastard, they wouldn't find him...

because he was busy getting the

Francie-Not-a-Bad-Bastard-Anymore diploma.

And soon I'd be out,

and where would I be then?

Right at the fountain with the one

and only Joe Purcell, king of all time.

When I see you out there on the bog,

Francie, bending your back...

I know there's goodness in you.

But, Father...

Yes, Francie?

Do you know what I'd like to do better

than cutting turf and grass verges?

What, Francie?

I'd like to be an altar boy, Father.

By God, Francie,

you're full of surprises.

And the Francie-Brady-Not-a-Bad-Bastard-

Anymore Award goes to...

Begod! I think it's Francie Brady.

And so it was

that the blessed Virgin Mary appeared...

to three small children

who were chosen by her.

Three beautiful little servants of God...

chosen to deliver

her special message...

for she knew that

the soul of a child...

is the purest of all.

What do you see? What do you see?

- Here, what the hell is going on here?

- We don't know.

- What are you looking at?

- Get back to work when you're told to.

Get back to work when you're told to.

Get off. Get off.

Did she speak to you, Francis?

No, she just looked.

- I think she might speak the next time.

- Francis.

I think you've unlocked something

very precious.

Thank you, Father.

Now, come on inside,

tell me all about it.

So you've unlocked something

very precious, have you?

Old bollocks.

The Balubas didn't give them

half enough.

- Balubas?

- Yeah, the Balubas.

They had the clothes and all off

from over in Africa...

and in the cooking pot about to light

the sticks when the army come.

You don't think he was like that

all his life, do you?

Fresh day, Francie.

Good boy.

Hello, Francie.

Hello, Our Lady.

How are things?

Not so bad, but I was a bit worried

there for a while.

- But I'm okay now.

- Worried, Francie?

What were you worried about?

The goldfish.

Goldfish?

What goldfish, Francie?

The goldfish Phillip gave to Joe.

Francie...

you know you shouldn't worry

about those things.

Joe is your friend, isn't he?

Yes, Our Lady.

Of course he is.

Of course he is.

You know, there's a particular reason

why she chose you, Francie.

It's because you're so special.

Worrying my head about goldfish.

She says I have no sense.

A young fella like you...

with his life before him...

what call have you to be worried?

- Francis?

- Yes, Father?

Would you tell me about it again?

The first time you saw her.

Well, the first time,

there was this perfume...

and then there was this smell.

I didn't know what it was...

until these rose petals

started falling out of the sky...

So there I am telling him the story...

and the next thing his hand

is jiggling in his pocket.

What are you doing, Father Tiddley? Pay

attention. You're worse than the Nugents.

This is amazing facts about Our Lady I'm

telling you, and you're jiggling away there.

Come on, what are you playing at?

Next, he bends over shaking.

I thought he was gonna break into halves.

I'd be in a fix if that happened.

"Just what is one half of Father Tiddley

doing over by the bookcase...

and the other on the floor?"

Don't you be bothering your head

about it, Father.

Come out from under those hands, now.

What I don't know

is why she never appears to us.

Maybe it's only to fellas called Francie.

Do you think

she has nothing better to do...

than appear to muck-savage

bollockses like you?

Here's the boy now.

Coming on grand he is, too.

Up at 7 every morning, serving Mass.

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