lj idol 3 strikes, week 14
Aug. 2nd, 2022 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stellinasFinneas Donoghue had always been unconventional which had caused him a lot of problems over the course of his twenty six years. At school he was the first to don an earring, much to the disgust of Mrs.Buchanan, his form teacher who had made him remove it every morning only to see it dangling from his ear the very next day.
As a teenager he had become a Goth, with his preference for black clothing, black make-up, Goth music, and his obsession with the macabre, he really was a fish out of water in his hometown of Bray, in Wicklow. His Ma and Pa thought it was downright sacrilegious and his Ma would not enter his bedroom for fear of some curse befalling her. Of course this was all ridiculous because Fin' was a sweet, kind- natured guy who anyone who took the trouble to really know him would attest to, he loved nature and often took long walks in the Irish countryside or along the beach when he wanted to think.
Kevin Walsh was Finn's greatest friend, he had a quiet, droll humour that could draw a smile from the most miserable of creatures and had studied Art in Dublin, he had also studied theatre make up and had picked up work here and there in theatres in and around Dublin. Finn' and Kev' had been friends since the first day of school and had been inseparable ever since.
It was one Saturday evening when they were sitting in The Wild Goose enjoying a drink or two with Finn's uncle, Padraic Reilly stirring up the natives with their rousing Irish music that they were bemoaning their lack of employment opportunities, both being stuck in mind numbing jobs;
''Ach, but I'm sick of that blasted supervisor, calling me Drac and asking if I want a mug of blood in the tearoom, how original! And the work! Well, I ain't gonna damage any braincells there, to be sure'' Finn was having a good old vent while Kev nodded his head now and again in agreement.
''I hear you mo chara'', Kev' chimed in, running his fingers through his long red hair, ''My boss calls me Mr Arty Farty and gives me the really shite jobs to do, so he does, I think I may have to go to England and look for some theatre work'' he said with a sad furrow on his brow.
Despite everything, the two men loved living in Bray, they just wanted a chance to do something different.
''Ach, come on now Kev', let's take a ride into Dublin for a bit o' craic, maybe we'll get lucky with a couple of cailíní; sure, it'll be grand''
At the mention of girls, Kev's face lit up, he was a great one with the ladies. Finn waved at Pat, who winked and grinned as he played his fiddle. That was the last time he saw him.
Finn's Uncle Padraic or Pat as he was called, keeled over in the middle of a boisterous rendition of ,''Away We Go Again '' on his fiddle. This was hard for Finn who had loved his uncle dearly. Pat was the first to get a party going , bringing out his fiddle and playing 'til the cows came home. Pat had never married or had children, as far as he knew-or so he'd often said with a wink, Finn had been his sister's only child and he'd loved him as his own. So, it came about that he left Finn a fair amount of money, his house in Bray and a shop in the town that had been closed for some years.
It was at Pat's funeral that Finn got the idea. He sat watching as all the funeral party sat, like black crows, the silence occasionally broken with muted weeping. It felt wrong, he imagined Pat sitting up the corner surveying the scene, shaking his head sadly, shouting to those who couldn't hear him,
'' Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Would ye look at yerselves! Lighten up and let's get the shindig goin'!
It was at that precise moment that Finn had an epiphany-''Funerals!'' he said a little too loudly, his Pa shot him a glare, his Ma saved it by declaring, ''Ah, the poor lad, 'tis grief-stricken, so he is'', while also casting him a warning look.
''Funerals!''. Kev' gave his friend a look which said, -have you lost your marbles?
They were back in The Wild Goose with Pat's chair glaringly empty in the corner of the snug.
''Yeah, but with a difference, you knew my uncle, Kev' he would have wanted a grand party, not that.
''You know how this town is'', Kev' looked dubious, ''They are so set in the old ways-I dunno....''
''Ok, let me explain it all to you, all my ideas and then we can try, if it doesn't work out, we 'll try our way in England''
So, it came to be that 5 months later, the new ''shop'' was unveiled, ''Dead Ringers, 'We put the fun in funerals!''
Of course, it stirred up quite a bit of shocked disapproval and at first, there was no business as the townsfolk, still set in their ways, continued to go to Dublin for the services. "I will not pay my good money to see this filth!" Mrs.Duncannon exclaimed in horror.
Finn had employed a fellow called Jim MacDonald, a mortician from Dublin who had married a widow from Bray and had been looking for work locally. Jim was a quirky fellow with a loud laugh and Finn took to Jim right away as he reminded him a little of his late uncle. Jim had a cousin living in Bray who passed away and who had been a huge fan of old Hammer Horror films. Jim told the lads he wanted a Hammer style funeral, his cousin dressed as Frankenstein, his favourite monster, guests too had to be dressed accordingly as characters. Kev', of course had the task of making Declan up as the monster. So, on a Saturday in May, St. Clare's was packed with werewolves, vampyrs, mummies and the like, looking slightly uncomfortable and crossing themselves every five minutes in case they incurred the wrath of the Man upstairs, all bidding farewell to Declan Casey. The wake was lively with Pat's old band playing, lots of chatter about Declan's practical jokes and everyone had a grand time. Before they knew what had happened, their business started to grow and Finn' and Kev' had found their unconventional niche in life.
In The Wild Goose, they sat, Jim too now, planning some news ideas, Finn' picked up his beer, looked at Pat's empty chair and whispered '' Sláinte Pat!'' sensing Pat smiling at him and giving him a wink.
As a teenager he had become a Goth, with his preference for black clothing, black make-up, Goth music, and his obsession with the macabre, he really was a fish out of water in his hometown of Bray, in Wicklow. His Ma and Pa thought it was downright sacrilegious and his Ma would not enter his bedroom for fear of some curse befalling her. Of course this was all ridiculous because Fin' was a sweet, kind- natured guy who anyone who took the trouble to really know him would attest to, he loved nature and often took long walks in the Irish countryside or along the beach when he wanted to think.
Kevin Walsh was Finn's greatest friend, he had a quiet, droll humour that could draw a smile from the most miserable of creatures and had studied Art in Dublin, he had also studied theatre make up and had picked up work here and there in theatres in and around Dublin. Finn' and Kev' had been friends since the first day of school and had been inseparable ever since.
It was one Saturday evening when they were sitting in The Wild Goose enjoying a drink or two with Finn's uncle, Padraic Reilly stirring up the natives with their rousing Irish music that they were bemoaning their lack of employment opportunities, both being stuck in mind numbing jobs;
''Ach, but I'm sick of that blasted supervisor, calling me Drac and asking if I want a mug of blood in the tearoom, how original! And the work! Well, I ain't gonna damage any braincells there, to be sure'' Finn was having a good old vent while Kev nodded his head now and again in agreement.
''I hear you mo chara'', Kev' chimed in, running his fingers through his long red hair, ''My boss calls me Mr Arty Farty and gives me the really shite jobs to do, so he does, I think I may have to go to England and look for some theatre work'' he said with a sad furrow on his brow.
Despite everything, the two men loved living in Bray, they just wanted a chance to do something different.
''Ach, come on now Kev', let's take a ride into Dublin for a bit o' craic, maybe we'll get lucky with a couple of cailíní; sure, it'll be grand''
At the mention of girls, Kev's face lit up, he was a great one with the ladies. Finn waved at Pat, who winked and grinned as he played his fiddle. That was the last time he saw him.
Finn's Uncle Padraic or Pat as he was called, keeled over in the middle of a boisterous rendition of ,''Away We Go Again '' on his fiddle. This was hard for Finn who had loved his uncle dearly. Pat was the first to get a party going , bringing out his fiddle and playing 'til the cows came home. Pat had never married or had children, as far as he knew-or so he'd often said with a wink, Finn had been his sister's only child and he'd loved him as his own. So, it came about that he left Finn a fair amount of money, his house in Bray and a shop in the town that had been closed for some years.
It was at Pat's funeral that Finn got the idea. He sat watching as all the funeral party sat, like black crows, the silence occasionally broken with muted weeping. It felt wrong, he imagined Pat sitting up the corner surveying the scene, shaking his head sadly, shouting to those who couldn't hear him,
'' Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Would ye look at yerselves! Lighten up and let's get the shindig goin'!
It was at that precise moment that Finn had an epiphany-''Funerals!'' he said a little too loudly, his Pa shot him a glare, his Ma saved it by declaring, ''Ah, the poor lad, 'tis grief-stricken, so he is'', while also casting him a warning look.
''Funerals!''. Kev' gave his friend a look which said, -have you lost your marbles?
They were back in The Wild Goose with Pat's chair glaringly empty in the corner of the snug.
''Yeah, but with a difference, you knew my uncle, Kev' he would have wanted a grand party, not that.
''You know how this town is'', Kev' looked dubious, ''They are so set in the old ways-I dunno....''
''Ok, let me explain it all to you, all my ideas and then we can try, if it doesn't work out, we 'll try our way in England''
So, it came to be that 5 months later, the new ''shop'' was unveiled, ''Dead Ringers, 'We put the fun in funerals!''
Of course, it stirred up quite a bit of shocked disapproval and at first, there was no business as the townsfolk, still set in their ways, continued to go to Dublin for the services. "I will not pay my good money to see this filth!" Mrs.Duncannon exclaimed in horror.
Finn had employed a fellow called Jim MacDonald, a mortician from Dublin who had married a widow from Bray and had been looking for work locally. Jim was a quirky fellow with a loud laugh and Finn took to Jim right away as he reminded him a little of his late uncle. Jim had a cousin living in Bray who passed away and who had been a huge fan of old Hammer Horror films. Jim told the lads he wanted a Hammer style funeral, his cousin dressed as Frankenstein, his favourite monster, guests too had to be dressed accordingly as characters. Kev', of course had the task of making Declan up as the monster. So, on a Saturday in May, St. Clare's was packed with werewolves, vampyrs, mummies and the like, looking slightly uncomfortable and crossing themselves every five minutes in case they incurred the wrath of the Man upstairs, all bidding farewell to Declan Casey. The wake was lively with Pat's old band playing, lots of chatter about Declan's practical jokes and everyone had a grand time. Before they knew what had happened, their business started to grow and Finn' and Kev' had found their unconventional niche in life.
In The Wild Goose, they sat, Jim too now, planning some news ideas, Finn' picked up his beer, looked at Pat's empty chair and whispered '' Sláinte Pat!'' sensing Pat smiling at him and giving him a wink.
