It's Hard To Be Holy

EP. 46: Chapter II (Cont'd)

Coarse, Offensive, and Xenophobic Language. Reader Discretion Advised.

'What the fuck?!' yelled Bud Carr, for it was only Bud who cared, as Ed came sprinting from the piano, and Vera was helped onto the stool next to Colin.

'OI! She's fuckin' bleedin' all over the place.'

'I see that, Pa—What happened?!'

'Some Townies jumped her,' said Bobby. Like father, like son, age had not brought about a tranquil side to Bobby Sullivan, but had bestowed immense girth. His presence resembled that of a great grizzly bear tottering about on its hind legs, lumbering, but always a danger if provoked. 

And it never took much to provoke him!

A reputation had grown around Bobby. He was the newest celebrity in the parish. Through sheer force of his size, he had taken the mantle of the Donahues and Zielinskis all for himself.

'Uhhh. Yeah!' said Danny, flopping against the bar, his long frame dripping with sweat. 'Yeah. Fuckin' Townies!' 

If Bobby was still a king, then Danny McKeen had remained his faithful lapdog, following wherever his master went. Always a detached sort of boy, manhood had rendered him comatose. Tallest of his friends, thinnest too, he slouched about with his tangled, red hair falling in front of his eyes, and it was not uncommon for him to walk headlong into very visible objects. Street signs were his fiercest enemy, only rivaled by fire hydrants.

'What the fuck are you doin' pickin' fights with Townies?!'

'I wasn't pickin' fights, Bud,' moaned Vera. 'They came lookin' for trouble!'

'No shit they was lookin' for trouble. They're fuckin' Townies!'

She winced at the volume he was using, and when she tried to pull away, blood came splattering across her brother's shirt.

Vera Constance Carr, luckiest of Niamh's three surviving children, was blessed with the best qualities of her parents. She had the tanned and angular look of her father in younger years, while the rest, the long, black hair flowing over her grown shoulders, the height, the figure, the confidence and self-assuredness, was all the best of her mother. 'Fucker broke my nose!'

'And where the fuck were you two in all of this?!'

'Uhhh. Us?'

'No, Dan, the other two fucktards—'

'Chill, Bud,' said Bobby. 'We got there in time. Nothin' happened to her.'

'Nothin' hap—DO YOU SEE HER FACE?!'

'I had it under control!'

'Shut up, Vera!' Bud grabbed the rag off the bar, and attempted to staunch the flow of blood still coming from his sister's nostrils.

'No—OW! Don't touch—Bud! Listen—OW! BUD!' She batted her hands about in a protective swat, shooing away her brother and the rag.

'I can fix that,' said Colin, not really rushing to help, but no less interested in the goings on around him. 'Sure, that looks like a clean break. Here. Let me put it back into place—'

'NO!' screamed Vera, lurching back.

'What?' clamored Colin, visibly insulted by her reaction. 'I fixed yer brother's schnozzle how many times? And don't it look fine?!'

'It looks like it got broke, Pa—'

'No, it doesn't! It looks fine!' and Bud was as insulated as Colin, though he hadn't taken a breath out of his nose for over a decade.