Mr. John Walker, Doctor of Psychology: Your Patients Have Arrived
Friday, April 25, 2003 - St. Louis, Missouri - John D. McGurk's Irish Pub - after Wildfire
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"BARKEEP...more
whiskey!"
Lancaster sat sullen, and less boisterous than he was while in the ring with his partner. Alcohol seemed like an appropriate stimulant at the time. Lancaster decided to chyme in and make his desires known.
"Make it a bottle...John Walker Black...."
Seamus nodded and gave a more detailed instruction. "FECKIN' AYE!!! Bottle o'John Walker Black!"
"Thanks lad. You always did have a way with bar tenders."
"Aye, I suppose I do! [as the waitress arrives with two filled glass and the remainder of the John Walker Black] Ach, cheers to ye lad! A toast...long live the Whiskey Devils! May those who love us, love us...and those who don't, may God turn their hearts, and if He can't turn their hearts, may He turn their bloody ankles, so we'll know 'em by their limpin'!"
Seamus was able to crack Lancaster's steel demeanour of that evening as he laughed to himself quietly and smiled, nodding his head.
"How can one not drink to that...yes mercy on them, and may whatever force prepare Las Vegas for the two damndest sons of bitches to ever step foot in that slum."
The two Brits raised their glasses, clinked them together, and downed the rich liquid in individual single gulps. They shared a distinct bond - the only other person on the planet to out drink the other sat across from them - namely, themselves.
"Viva Las Vegas indeed!" Seamus saw the unease in Lancaster's eyes and smiled sympathetically. He wasn't too sure how to proceed, but noted Robert's quick consumption of a second glass already. He knew of the Duke's past battle with alcoholism, and kept an eye fixed to that bottle.
"Lad, ye alright there? I mean...I know drinkin's in yer blood...hell, it's in MY blood...but ah've never seen ye in such a state...care to talk about it, lad?"
Lancaster shifted back in his chair, trying to tune out the laughter and joviality surrounding him. He sat pensively for a few moments and spoke, not lifting his eyes.
"Let's just say that I did not find what I expected nor wanted in Jerusalem. I lost God. And I found Satan..."
Robert lifted his eyes, which were staring empty, soul-less.
"I had an encounter with that son of a bitch...Bourbon, Louis Bourbon."
"Bourbon? That gobshite??? Had I been there I would've helped ye smash his bloody face in. Fecker still owes me a bottle o'Bailey's from when we were WWA Tag champs...the wanker!"
The Duke looked at him.
"I wouldn't count on him ever delivering it. He's a monk now, but that didn't stop him from choking the life out of me...Had I a chance I would have him dead. But...seeing him just brought all those bad memories back from those two years ago...I've never completely over those demons...and now things are just compouding. "
"Compounding, ye say? How so, lad? Ah'm all ears!...BARKEEP!!! ANOTHER BOTTLE!!!"
The startled bar tender looked up in amazement, hearing another call for another $50 bottle of JW Black. He merely shrugged and told the waitress to bring another bottle over.
Lancaster laughed again. "You best keep that other bottle away from me, or I'll be asking for a fucking straw. As for compounding, you bloody well know lad. Steph and what not. If this keeps up I'll be petitioning for a divorce."
The Duke knew he was talking crap, but he said it anyway out of spite.
"Divorce? Surely it's not THAT bad...it's not that bad, is it?"
Lancaster poured himself another helping from the first bottle as the second bottle arrived and simply shook his head unknowingly.
"We came so close to it before lad, who's to say it's not that close now. We're both stubborn pigs when we both think we're right, that's the problem...and now that Edward's in the picture, I just have no idea. If it doesn't show signs of rectifying, and if she doesn't start returning my calls, she'll be getting one from my solicitor soon."
Seamus listened and nodded.
"Besides lad," Lancaster sarcastically noted, "ye know what women are like!"
Seamus rolled his eyes...
"Aye, don't I know it! My lass' got me memorizin' the feckin' lyrics to the 'Man Song'...ye know...[singing] 'I don't take no crap from anybody else but you...I wear the pants around here when I'm finished with your laundry, cuz I'm a guy you don't wanna fight, when I say jump you say "Yeah, right!", I'm the man of this house until you get home'...and so on, and so on...aye, she's got me memorizin' it alright...women can be grand, but when they got ye in 'yer place'...look out!"
Lancaster had ended his dependence on hatred for the time, and turned to the ludicrous for sympathy and spirit.
"Didn't Father Larry Duff say something about that at one time, as a great reason why priests shouldn't marry? Or was that just Frank Wanker spewing his arse off from that one night."
To say there were plenty of memories from back at O'Leary's Pub in Belfast for both men was an understatement. The mere mention of either Father Larry or Frank made the two men delirious with laughter.
"Ach, I've no idea...but hey, that's not a bad idea, lad...why don't ye give Father Larry Duff a call? I mean, he DID always say we could call him anytime, day or night, if we ever needed anything!"
With an uneraseable smirk, the Duke got out his cell phone, pointing a finger at Seamus.
"Ya know lad, that's not a bad idea...I'll give him a wee ring...I'm sure he won't mind even if it's what...4 AM back home or so?"
The Duke dialed up Father Larry's number, and waited for an answer. He thought he heard him pick up, but only heard a muffled scream followed by the dial tone.
"What do you know...no answer!"
"Ach, what a backstard!"
Lancaster sat sullen, and less boisterous than he was while in the ring with his partner. Alcohol seemed like an appropriate stimulant at the time. Lancaster decided to chyme in and make his desires known.
"Make it a bottle...John Walker Black...."
Seamus nodded and gave a more detailed instruction. "FECKIN' AYE!!! Bottle o'John Walker Black!"
"Thanks lad. You always did have a way with bar tenders."
"Aye, I suppose I do! [as the waitress arrives with two filled glass and the remainder of the John Walker Black] Ach, cheers to ye lad! A toast...long live the Whiskey Devils! May those who love us, love us...and those who don't, may God turn their hearts, and if He can't turn their hearts, may He turn their bloody ankles, so we'll know 'em by their limpin'!"
Seamus was able to crack Lancaster's steel demeanour of that evening as he laughed to himself quietly and smiled, nodding his head.
"How can one not drink to that...yes mercy on them, and may whatever force prepare Las Vegas for the two damndest sons of bitches to ever step foot in that slum."
The two Brits raised their glasses, clinked them together, and downed the rich liquid in individual single gulps. They shared a distinct bond - the only other person on the planet to out drink the other sat across from them - namely, themselves.
"Viva Las Vegas indeed!" Seamus saw the unease in Lancaster's eyes and smiled sympathetically. He wasn't too sure how to proceed, but noted Robert's quick consumption of a second glass already. He knew of the Duke's past battle with alcoholism, and kept an eye fixed to that bottle.
"Lad, ye alright there? I mean...I know drinkin's in yer blood...hell, it's in MY blood...but ah've never seen ye in such a state...care to talk about it, lad?"
Lancaster shifted back in his chair, trying to tune out the laughter and joviality surrounding him. He sat pensively for a few moments and spoke, not lifting his eyes.
"Let's just say that I did not find what I expected nor wanted in Jerusalem. I lost God. And I found Satan..."
Robert lifted his eyes, which were staring empty, soul-less.
"I had an encounter with that son of a bitch...Bourbon, Louis Bourbon."
"Bourbon? That gobshite??? Had I been there I would've helped ye smash his bloody face in. Fecker still owes me a bottle o'Bailey's from when we were WWA Tag champs...the wanker!"
The Duke looked at him.
"I wouldn't count on him ever delivering it. He's a monk now, but that didn't stop him from choking the life out of me...Had I a chance I would have him dead. But...seeing him just brought all those bad memories back from those two years ago...I've never completely over those demons...and now things are just compouding. "
"Compounding, ye say? How so, lad? Ah'm all ears!...BARKEEP!!! ANOTHER BOTTLE!!!"
The startled bar tender looked up in amazement, hearing another call for another $50 bottle of JW Black. He merely shrugged and told the waitress to bring another bottle over.
Lancaster laughed again. "You best keep that other bottle away from me, or I'll be asking for a fucking straw. As for compounding, you bloody well know lad. Steph and what not. If this keeps up I'll be petitioning for a divorce."
The Duke knew he was talking crap, but he said it anyway out of spite.
"Divorce? Surely it's not THAT bad...it's not that bad, is it?"
Lancaster poured himself another helping from the first bottle as the second bottle arrived and simply shook his head unknowingly.
"We came so close to it before lad, who's to say it's not that close now. We're both stubborn pigs when we both think we're right, that's the problem...and now that Edward's in the picture, I just have no idea. If it doesn't show signs of rectifying, and if she doesn't start returning my calls, she'll be getting one from my solicitor soon."
Seamus listened and nodded.
"Besides lad," Lancaster sarcastically noted, "ye know what women are like!"
Seamus rolled his eyes...
"Aye, don't I know it! My lass' got me memorizin' the feckin' lyrics to the 'Man Song'...ye know...[singing] 'I don't take no crap from anybody else but you...I wear the pants around here when I'm finished with your laundry, cuz I'm a guy you don't wanna fight, when I say jump you say "Yeah, right!", I'm the man of this house until you get home'...and so on, and so on...aye, she's got me memorizin' it alright...women can be grand, but when they got ye in 'yer place'...look out!"
Lancaster had ended his dependence on hatred for the time, and turned to the ludicrous for sympathy and spirit.
"Didn't Father Larry Duff say something about that at one time, as a great reason why priests shouldn't marry? Or was that just Frank Wanker spewing his arse off from that one night."
To say there were plenty of memories from back at O'Leary's Pub in Belfast for both men was an understatement. The mere mention of either Father Larry or Frank made the two men delirious with laughter.
"Ach, I've no idea...but hey, that's not a bad idea, lad...why don't ye give Father Larry Duff a call? I mean, he DID always say we could call him anytime, day or night, if we ever needed anything!"
With an uneraseable smirk, the Duke got out his cell phone, pointing a finger at Seamus.
"Ya know lad, that's not a bad idea...I'll give him a wee ring...I'm sure he won't mind even if it's what...4 AM back home or so?"
The Duke dialed up Father Larry's number, and waited for an answer. He thought he heard him pick up, but only heard a muffled scream followed by the dial tone.
"What do you know...no answer!"
"Ach, what a backstard!"