Lucky Charms

Dreary Dublin

The same rain that ruins the picnic,
saves the farmers crop ...

       "Wilde Passes in London". The Headline of The Dublin Mercury lamented in heavy black caps. A dolt grey shower fell in solid sheets outside the sitting room window of Michael Patrick, as tiny rivulets of water marched in a somber procession toward ancient cobbles.

    "The earth itself mourns the native son." Michael turned on his heals upon hearing Beth's unimpressed exhale.

       "You are hardly a poor mans Wilde dear." Shaking her head. Beths voice was sweet, English, not the Staccato brogue that dominated the Irish streets and parlors. "Why your barely even li..." Without warning the heavy parlor doors burst open, ushering in a soaked and frantic Edan O'Connel. The lasts "...terate" was unheard and rebounded harmlessly of the parlor wall.

     Edan flipped his Newsboy carelessly on the arm of one of the Victorian parlor chairs, causing the light pink velour to immediately turn to a dark maroon.

       Edan gestured wildly, as he struggled to regain his wind. It was obvious that He had been running. "Well!?"This was most definitely Irish, and the ending "L", seemed to draw out to an emphatic question.

        "Yes.. Is that where you've been, you're perfectly sopping? The rug, Ed, Mind the Persian your melting into." Beth motioned him to the brick in front of a cozy fire.

         Edan sat on the edge of the hearth and in one swift motion and began to remove his boots. "Lizard, forgo your English propriety for just a moment, please! God save the queen, Pish tosh, Cucumber sandwiches..." Edan craned  his neck and eyes heavenward as if double checking his list. "No offense but this is much more important than pleasantries! Well?"

        "Yes Edan," Michael quipped, "we've established that much. I would have guessed 'Sea', judging by the remarkable amount of water, but if it's a 'well' you insist up..."

        "Oh by Titans crack! Do shut up Earl Michael Patrick." Edan had dressed down to his long johns, and was now rubbing his hands together vigorously above the fire. "Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde," Edan spoke into the fire.

        "I did not know you were a patron of exiled fringe poets," Beth remarked with a chuckle.

        "Help me Lizard. Please follow me here. What an unfortunate reason for an adventure. Let's go to Paris! Please most stately earl. It's not the perfect excuse, but it's at least a reason to escape this dreadful, incessant rain!"

         "I do hate agreeing with Ed," Beth shifted her gaze from a now blanket cocooned Edan to a starched and rigid Michael still entranced with the rain through the window, "but I simply must agree. It's dreadful here. It's been raining stair rods for two weeks. Can we please? Gay Pari. I'll send for Megs, and will make it a foursome." Beth broke into some popular song about Gay Pari, as Edan nodded vigorously at the mention of the inclusion of Megs.