Choose Wisely my Son

Wanna buy a castle?

Down a weedy avenue to lower Westonderry Woods stood an abandoned castle, tumbling down stone by stone.  But once, this castle had been filled with light, music, and laughter, along with copious amounts of alcohol.

Lord Brandon Quentin Fielding-Larson,a charismatic bachelor, had inherited a massive fortune which opened many doors to him, including the world of high society.  Lord Larson swept newly debuted young ladies off their feet.  And, if his charm succeeded, he swept them onto their backs.

 Soon he was swimming in debt.  All of his creditors were folding up his mortgages and moving in on him.  Also, many outraged titled fathers of pregnant young debutantes were circling their carriages around him.

Seeing no escape and not being one to cower  before the angry men, Lord Larson hastily buried the ledger notebook under heavy wood planks, and stormed to the stables, saddling the fastest horse there.  Off he thundered, applying a riding crop with a heavy hand.

The horse came back alone, a wise decision on Lord Brandon Quentin Fielding-Larson’s part, probably the only one he had ever made.

This post was from 2015 and I really enjoyed writing it. The italicized underlined words are Wednesday Words, originally established by Delores as a way to challenge writers to play with words. Losing too many computer battles, Delores passed the baton to creative bloggers, Elephant's Child and River.

Pleased pop over there and check the Wednesday Words. You will not regret it.

Bate da Bag outta Ye

source

Liam gingerly placed an ice pack on a swollen throbbing jaw, given to him by his brother Jimmy.  That Jimmy—he sure busted me dial (punched my face).

What had started out as fun horseplay at O'Burne's Pub had escalated into a full-on brawl.  Disgraceful!  You boys have embarrassed us! AGAIN! Their mother had shouted a frequently delivered statement into their faces.

The sequence of the battle had had them rolling onto the pool table, smashing bar stools, and delivering heavy punches (knock yer pan).

  

When blood and broken beer bottles were splattered throughout the bar, the owner Frank McGuire threw them out to dark dank Knackers Avenue. “Get on yer bike and take yerself dah feck this minute if not sooner!” (Get out.)

Once the anger drained away, they staggered along the dim street, holding each other up.  

“A fine donnybrook (brawl), Jimmy .  I sure bate the bag outta ye (beat you up).”

“I’ll gi’ ye that, Liam.  You marmaladed me (punched) but good.”

“Ah, weel, I’ll knack yer ballix in (I'll beat you up) again next time…let’s git on home so Ma can gob smack us. (tell us off and perhaps slap us).”

The Irish males are often a rowdy group who may congregate in pubs. They have very colorful language. After a soccer or hurling game, there is often great animosity.

Next week starts December, and River will be providing some exciting Wednesday Words for ye.

  

Wednesday Words...The Horse Came Home Alone

Wanna buy a castle?

Down a weedy avenue to lower Westonderry Woods stood an abandoned castle, tumbling down stone by stone.  But once, this castle had been filled with light, music, and laughter, along with copious amounts of alcohol.

Lord Brandon Larson,a charismatic bachelor, had inherited a massive fortune which opened many doors to him, including the world of high society.  Lord Larson swept newly debuted young ladies off their feet.  And, if his charm succeeded, he swept them onto their backs.

 Soon he was swimming in debt.  All of his creditors were folding up his mortgages and moving in on him.  Also, many outraged titled fathers of pregnant young debutantes were circling their carriages around him.

Seeing no escape and not being one to cower  before the angry men, Lord Larson hastily buried the ledger notebook under heavy Swood planks, and stormed to the stables to saddle the fastest horse there.  Off he thundered, applying a riding crop with a heavy hand.

The horse came back alone, a wise decision on Lord Larson’s part, probably the only one he had ever made.