THE ART OF CONVERSATION

As the early morning sun lit up Belfast, disregarding peace walls and no-go areas, I got out of bed on the wrong side and fell down a deep hole that someone had dug during the night.
"Darn students." I muttered as I hauled myself out with the help and assistance of a very friendly worm called Norman. I filled in the hole by digging another large hole in the kitchen and using the earth from the second hole to fill in the first hole. I may be dumb but I'm not stupid.
My late, deceased and dead daddy was very smart. It was he who invented the hole in Polo mints. "Make a hole," he said to the Polo people "and then cover it with peppermint".
When the doughnut people copied his design, dear daddy went into a steep decline. He refused to get out of bed and just lay there sobbing ,"They stole my hole." It was heart-breaking to watch him. This was the smiling, laughing daddy who used to ride on my tiny shoulders.
Something had to be done, so one dark night as the clock was striking the barometer, we rolled dear daddy up in 16 yards of Chinese silk, carried him to a waiting horsedrawn chest of drawers and took him to the Black Mountain. Dear mummy and my 18 siblings and me, then stripped dear daddy, covered him in Gale's honey and hung him from an ancient oak tree by the right toe. Dearest mummy gave him a swing and we all began to chant, "May the honey from the bee, bring my daddy back to me."But alas, there was no change in dear pappa. Then my older brother Sylvia, (The midwife was old and had very bad eyesight) said, "Perhaps dearest daddy is the wrong way up." So, we cut dear daddy down, tied the rope round his neck and hung him up again. Looking back, with hindsight, it's easy to be critical. Dear daddy took a turn for the worst, maybe just to spite us, who knows? He up and died on us. We scraped off all the honey we could from his dead body, (It's great on hot pancakes) carried dear daddy to the edge of the Lagin, placed him in a rusty pram and watched as he was carried out to sea.
"Goodbye dear Myfanwy" cried mummy, "everytime I see a hole-I will think of you".
And you know something?--she did just that, that's what love will do.
Tommy my cat came in, rattled the marbles in his trousers pocket, looked and me and said.
"You know her at number 27?"
I eased myself out from under the cooker and said, "Number 27? I'm not sure, what does she look like?"
"Oh, you know her" said Tommy "the woman with the red cardigan and the mole on her face".
"Why does she not keep it in the garden?" I said.
"Keep what in the garden?" said Tommy.
"The mole" I said "Why has she got a mole on her face?"
"It's not that kind of mole" said Tommy "It's a beauty spot".
"Describe it" I said "Describe this so called beauty spot"
"Well" said Tommy "It's a brown blemish, with hairs growing out of it".
"Sounds more like an ugly spot to me." I said "Anyway, what about this woman with the mole on her face that lives at number 27? Is she dead, getting married? Why are you talking about the woman at number 27?"
"I'm trying to make conversation" yelled Tommy "and to make conversation, you need a subject, a focal point, a point of reference that the ensuing conversation can be spun round".
"And you call the woman at number 27 a fitting subject for conversation?" I yelled
"The art of GOOD conversation, requires not only a subject, or focal point. It also requires content. Where is the content?" I cried "Woman at number 27, red cardigan, mole on face, what else is there? Nothing, diddly-squat! What's got into you Tommy?" I cried "You used to be a good conversationalist and now the best you can come up with is--woman, 27, red cardigan,mole on face, shame Tommy," I said "you've just made a fool of yourself".
"Damn you!" screamed Tommy. "You always bring me down. I'm sick and tired talking about a-a fiscal policy, inflation, the high cost of fuel and trouble at blooming mill".
"Get out!" I cried "Get out and never darken this door again until you can converse like a normal cat." "I'm going!" yelled Tommy "but don't blame me when you end up talking to the wall. You ugly, stupid, excuse for a human being"
I walked indoors smiling. Me? Me talk to the wall? The day I start talking to the wall, is the day I will cash in my do-lally premium bonds.
I sat down on a chair, picked up a pooffe, sat it on my knee and said "Pooffe, did I ever tell you about the time my late daddy invented the hole in the Polo mint? NO, well it happened like this...............
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Hey, want to buy a genuine ghost in a bottle? Google Spamount mill ghost for details and contact me at
jpmcmenamin@gmail.com
Until me meet again, I will just say--hello.