A Dublin Story

The men had been at it all day. Drinking that was. They had been drinking since
just after 11 and it was now 9pm and they were all drunk and broke. The barman who had just come on duty eyed them  with a look of irritated disgust. Two of the the men in particular were scuttered drunk and could barely stand. The other one was quietly pissed. The third one, who was less drunk than the other two, was muttering softly to himself and staring at the match that was on
the telly. He fumbled through his trousers very slowly and picked out a 20 euro note which was rolled up into a little ball.
He leaned back slightly in an expression of quiet delight.
He would leave the other two as they were poloothered and would not get served anymore drink anywhere.
So he got up without a word and walked out the door and headed up north frederick st towards parnell st.
He had had at least twelve pints but strangely didnt feel too drunk at all.
It was only beginning to get dark and was still warm. He simply loved these balmy summer nights strolling alone in the city.
There was a bar up on Parnell st which were selling pints for 3 euro. 3 euro was about right for a pint, recession or no recession. Everything was a bloody
rip in this city. Not like it was when he was a young man. Today the place simply had no character. But there were always charcters, and would always be characters.
Things haven't changed in that respect. He checked his pockets for fags and remembered almost immediately that he had left them on the table in the pub. He could see them there on the table. Probably in the barman's pocket now.
Ah well. Too expensive to buy cigarettes at that price though. He'd bum one or two in the next pub. There was plenty of young people in the next pub. They weren't as hawkish with cigarettes as the older ones, ones his age.
That was probably true. But it depended as well, like everything. Three pints and home. He'd have 3 slow ones and go home to the bed. Maybe he'd have a few games of pool as well. Play a game for a pint. He'd played in there before for drink, and won.
He gave a little start of excitement at the thought of winning pool. He wasn't a bad player in fairness. The tables were very small though.

He'd managed to get a game and a pint quickly enough. As his oppenent, who was about 19 and sober, decent looking, was about to break he asked the young man if he fancied a pint on the game. Yes, the young man agreed to play for a pint.
His opponent potted three off the break but missed a simple cut into the middle leaving balls on everywhere. This should be easy enough.
Hardest one first, to get it out of the way. The red rolled into the top left, perfect for a choice of reds into the top or middle pockets. It really was childs play from here on in. The trick was to tap the white around the table. The harder you hit the white the harder it was to maintain accuracy.
He cleared five reds in quick succession and left his opponent on the bottom cushion without a straight pot on. The young man commended his good play and asked did he want the barman to put the stout on for him. Not yet lad, it ain't over yet. I've been known to blow it, he said, taking aim on a tricky pot along the left cushion.
Roll it. He nudged the red into the top left leaving him a straight black into the right middle. Again he tapped the black towards the pocket, playing a bit of stun to leave the white in the centre of the table. Well played, the young man extended his hand. Do you want that on now?
yes sure I'll have it now, good man.
They played another game and he won another pint, and another after that. The young man left after that and he went up the bar to take the pint that had been paid for him. He was feeling quite drunk now and decided he would go home after that one.
As he was on the way to the gents he noticed  two men exchanging money at the pool table. One man was giving the other one a couple of 50 euro notes. He was suddenly started with a nervous excitement at the sight of the money and imagined he could win a bit himself. The trouble was he didn't have the money if he lost but with the way he played against the young man earlier, he didn't forsee himself losing.
He'd chance a tenner at first and if he won would double the stakes for the next match.
When he came back fromm the toilets, the men had started another game. He watched them keenly for a few minutes then sat back down at the bar with his pint. The two lads playing, although sober looking, were not very good and he could beat them both quite easily he figured.
He took another sip from his pint then went down and put his coin on the table. Game lads? Yeah, said the one who was cueing, not taking his attention from his shot. Grand.
It was edging onto 11 o clock but the bar opened til all hours and he didnt feel like going home just yet. He heard the balls coming out of the pool machine as the barman placed a pint in front of him. He arched his head back to see if the same lads were playing but it appeared there was someone else playing with one of the the men who were playing before. Probably my turn next. He was feeling that lethargic, insouciant drunk feeling you get when you have been drinking all day and cannot possibly get more drunk. Outwardly though he shouldn't look too bad he thought. The problem was he could hold his drink too well, could carry on drinking for days if the stuff was put in front of him. He wasn't working now anyway, had been layed off over two months ago. He didnt have have obligations anymore. The welfare paid the rent and he went down to his sisters when he was stuck for a dinner. It quite suited him in fact being on the dole, sleeping in, few pints at night. Plenty of time to himself. Just the way he wanted. What a country though. You wouldn't get it anywhere.

He was on the verge of dozing off on his stool when a shrill whistle woke him. One of the men were motioning to him. He took his pint and made his way over to the pool table.
Are ye playin for money lads?
if ye want yeah? a score? said the shaven headed one as he lined up to break.
yeah.
the man with the shaved head potted the black off the break and so won the game.
do you want to go doubles on that son?
naw mate, we're headin off now.
both men walked up close to him zipping up their jackets, the taller one with the dark hair stuck out his hand for the money, even though it was the other lad he had lost to.
he began hopelessly rummaging in his right hand pocket...just a second lads, i left my money on the counter. as he walked back to the counter he could hear the two men following behind him.
he was a couple of yards in front of them so he decided to make a dash for the door. he hadn't got outside the door when he felt something heavy strike his feet and the next think he was sprawled out in front of a bus. the bus driver pulled on the breaks but that didnt save him.