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Published: September 28th 2008
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LIttle Man
Can i keep him Dad, can I? “Ní bheidh ár leithéidi ann arís.”
-our kind won’t be here again.
The quote at the start of this piece comes from the wall of the The Kruger Bar. I take it as, each one of us is an individual, and where ever you go, you leave a mark or a bit of yourself there like a finger print. After the beach we made our way to the most westardly bar in Ireland called, “The Kruger.” There we ordered one pint a piece only to discover that we had no money and to no surprise this bar did not take cards. In an act of unusual understanding and trust, the bar owner Sean told us just to leave the money for the pints in town and he would pick it up later. I wasn’t amazed. We even got invited to his going out of business bar party where basically you drink for pennies and destroy things. If we didn’t have a cash flow concern and schedule to keep we probably would’ve gone.
PULP FICTION
It’s occurred to me that I’m leaving out shit and publishing these things out of order. What I’m going to do
Pirate Tatto
Kiss the guns old lady. Or i'll beat you. is have everyone pretend all these blog entries since I’ve started are Pulp Fiction storylines and will all tie in together at some point in time like it did in that movie. With that said;
For our last night in Dingle, Tara and I made love for 6 straight hours while we drank wine and ate fruit and chocolate.
What really happened;
My main fault as a man, role model and ambassador to the United States is my general behavior in front of children. I’ll pick my nose and flick the booger across the room and have it land on a bald old man’s Guinness glass rim and then laugh when he drinks it while the whole bar gets mad at me. WOuldn’t care a bit. But I should care about what I do in front of children. For some reason here, I’ll scratch my man purse, swear like a sailor, and yell in church, all in front of kids and yup, I don’t give a hoot. It’s like I’m babysitting someone else children and I’m letting them play with knives, which I swear I’ve never done. At least I don’t think so. I drank a lot
Sand Driving
Like Mario Cart, but without extra lives. when I babysat. What i'm really saying is that there are a shit load of kids in Dingle, like Novato, with nothing to do but cause shit. And i have no business being around them.
We went to a bar (surprise) and got drunk (surprise) and ate traditional irish stew. I likes me some lamb stew. I even ate the veggies! Oh and why we’re on the subject I gained 4lbs since I’ve been here. I’m now an almost happy 154!
At this bar we met this little man named Jerry. Jerry is about 4’6” and that may be a generous measurement. He has a red beard, barely understandable Irish accent, he smelt like the dumpster behind a fish market and had some Sleepy Hollow tree teeth. It took him about an hour but he finally said that he knew he looked like a leprechaun and I almost pissed my pants with internal laughter. Not that i couldn't have laughed in his face. I could held this guy upside down by his ankle and shook all the change out of his pockets. This guy was so goddam Irish that he wasn’t allowed to drink whiskey until after he
Tattoeen
"Uncle Owen?! Aunt Baru?!" finished his dinner and then he was only allowed one shot of it.
The next day we packed up the car and headed to Galway. Along the way I noticed a car driving on the beach. After a brief but more of a, “I’ll just pretend to ask someone if it’s ok to drive on the beach, so Tara won’t be worried or angry,” investigation, we had rubber tearing sand. If you’ve never driven a fully insured car that doesn’t belong to you on a beach, fast and through the water, I highly recommend it. We were like two little kids who stole the car and thought, “what’s the funnest thing we can do with it?” Since I know Tara wouldn’t let me blow it up, we raced it on the beach. My only regret is that I didn’t kill a seagull and Tara went faster than me. It was a top ten life moment. For real. Off to Galway….
JULES
That's my bad motherfucker. Now open
it up and take out the cash. How
much is there?
PUMPKIN
About fifteen hundred dollars.
JULES
Put it in your pocket, it's yours.
Now with the rest of them wallets
and the register, that makes this a
pretty successful little score.
VINCENT
Jules, if you give this nimrod fifteen
hundred buck, I'm gonna shoot 'em on
general principle.
JULES
You ain't gonna do a goddamn thing,
now hang back and shut the fuck up.
Besides, I ain't givin' it to him.
I'm buyin' somethin' for my money.
Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo?
PUMPKIN
What?
JULES
Your life. I'm givin' you that money
so I don't hafta kill your ass. You
read the Bible?
PUMPKIN
Not regularly.
JULES
There's a passage I got memorized.
Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the
righteous man is beset on all sides
by the inequities of the selfish and
the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is
he who, in the name of charity and
good will, shepherds the weak through
the valley of the darkness. For he
is truly his brother's keeper and
the finder of lost children. And I
will strike down upon thee with great
vengeance and furious anger those
who attempt to poison and destroy my
brothers. And you will know I am the
Lord when I lay my vengeance upon
you." I been sayin' that shit for
years. And if you ever heard it, it
meant your ass. I never really
questioned what it meant. I thought
it was just a coldblooded thing to
say to a motherfucker 'fore you popped
a cap in his ass. But I saw some
shit this mornin' made me think twice.
Now I'm thinkin', it could mean you're
the evil man. And I'm the righteous
man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the
shepherd protecting my righteous ass
in the valley of darkness. Or is
could by you're the righteous man
and I'm the shepherd and it's the
world that's evil and selfish. I'd
like that. But that shit ain't the
truth. The truth is you're the weak.
And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But
I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' real hard to
be a shepherd.
Jules lowers his gun, lying it on the table.
Pumpkin looks at him, to the money in his hand, then to
Yolanda.
She looks back.
Grabbing the trash bag full of wallets, the two RUN out the
door.
Jules, who was never risen from his seat the whole time,
takes a sip of coffee.
JULES
(to himself)
It's cold.
He pushes it aside.
Vincent appears next to Jules.
VINCENT
I think we oughta leave now.
JULES
That's probably a good idea.
Vincent throws some money on the table and Jules grabs the
briefcase.
Then, to the amazement of the Patrons, the Waitresses, the
Cooks, the Bus Boys, and the Manager, these two bad-ass dudes
- wearing UC Santa Cruz and "I'm with Stupid" tee-shirts,
swim trunks, thongs and packing .45 Automatics - walk out of
the coffee shop together without saying a word.
FADE OUT
THE END
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