Read Online The Wake (And What Jeremiah Did Next) by Colm Herron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colm Herron
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anybody tell me what America’s doing? Why are they sitting there doing nothing when people out in those places are getting slaughtered? The land of the free. Isn’t that what they call themselves?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any more whiskey out there Master would you? I wouldn’t say no to a wee nip.”
Realizing that I was the master in question I gazed raptly at the part of the floor visible between my legs and was horrified to see that a space had opened up in my fly and was widening even as I gazed. For this to happen in front of human remains and in company which included one female, broadminded though she clearly was, was bad enough but I was conscious that three other women would be emerging from the scullery any minute with tea, spring-sprongs and sandwiches. Or four was it? Hard to remember. I quickly crossed my legs.
“America’s too busy killing thousands of Vietnamese just so they can save face,” explained Bill.
“Right, there’s another thing. What are they doing out there anyway?” said Jim. “Is that not the stupidest war ever was?”
“It’s about money,” said Bill. “It’s a fraud in fact. This thing stopped being about communism a long time ago. It’s about arms companies lining their pockets and then giving millions to the Democrats so they can be re-elected. Or the Republicans as you’ll see next month.”
“They’re all a crowd of bastards!” shouted Willie Henry.
Nothing daunted Bill proceeded with his analysis:
“That’s why John Kennedy was assassinated of course. And Bobby. He was planning to pull out just like his brother was.”
“That’s what I always thought,” said Seamus. “It’s a scandal when you think about it. I’ve a cousin from Ohio was killed in that Tet offensive at the start of the year and his whole family think he died for his country.”
“Well so he did,” said Bill. “He died fighting for big business. That’s what America is, big business. How would you put it? Uncle Sam plc? A lot of the boys that aren’t conscripted join up because they think they’re answering their country’s call.”
“Stars in their eyes,” said Margie. “Fifty.”
“Well, they’re fed this pup about the American dream from first grade and a fair percentage never grow out of it,” continued Bill, directing his attention to Seamus and Jim as if Margie hadn’t opened her mouth. “And do you know that many of them actually think the people who drew up their constitution were inspired by God.”
“Like the boys that writ the bible.” This interjection from Willie Henry. Bill cast a tolerant look in his general direction.
“It’s not going to last, is it?” asked Jim. What was this anyway? They’d been getting ready to drink Bill’s blood before the priest came in and now it was all sweetness and light. I wasn’t exactly in the right condition to get to the bottom of the new dispensation and of course I’d missed a few installments but it nearly seemed in my tender state of mind as if Hourigan had been maybe sent in by God Himself. For behold, every mountain and hill shall be made low and the something shall be made straight? And the something something smooth?
“What’s not going to last?” said Bill. “The war?”
“No, I mean America,” said Jim. “Sure it’s an empire isn’t it? And empires all end, right?”
Bill was in his element all right. I saw him throw one or two darting looks at my pajama bottoms but he was on a roll and not inclined to be sidetracked. “It is. It’s been an empire for well over a hundred years now and as for lasting I’d give it another couple of hundred years at most.”
The scullery door swung open and there was Mammy with a steaming teapot in one hand and a plate of Madeira in the other. I didn’t buy Madeira. Somebody must have brought it in. The rest of the caterers, four in number, stood in a row behind her carrying trays of cups and saucers, milk and sugar and platefuls of
“You wouldn’t happen to have any more whiskey out there Master would you? I wouldn’t say no to a wee nip.”
Realizing that I was the master in question I gazed raptly at the part of the floor visible between my legs and was horrified to see that a space had opened up in my fly and was widening even as I gazed. For this to happen in front of human remains and in company which included one female, broadminded though she clearly was, was bad enough but I was conscious that three other women would be emerging from the scullery any minute with tea, spring-sprongs and sandwiches. Or four was it? Hard to remember. I quickly crossed my legs.
“America’s too busy killing thousands of Vietnamese just so they can save face,” explained Bill.
“Right, there’s another thing. What are they doing out there anyway?” said Jim. “Is that not the stupidest war ever was?”
“It’s about money,” said Bill. “It’s a fraud in fact. This thing stopped being about communism a long time ago. It’s about arms companies lining their pockets and then giving millions to the Democrats so they can be re-elected. Or the Republicans as you’ll see next month.”
“They’re all a crowd of bastards!” shouted Willie Henry.
Nothing daunted Bill proceeded with his analysis:
“That’s why John Kennedy was assassinated of course. And Bobby. He was planning to pull out just like his brother was.”
“That’s what I always thought,” said Seamus. “It’s a scandal when you think about it. I’ve a cousin from Ohio was killed in that Tet offensive at the start of the year and his whole family think he died for his country.”
“Well so he did,” said Bill. “He died fighting for big business. That’s what America is, big business. How would you put it? Uncle Sam plc? A lot of the boys that aren’t conscripted join up because they think they’re answering their country’s call.”
“Stars in their eyes,” said Margie. “Fifty.”
“Well, they’re fed this pup about the American dream from first grade and a fair percentage never grow out of it,” continued Bill, directing his attention to Seamus and Jim as if Margie hadn’t opened her mouth. “And do you know that many of them actually think the people who drew up their constitution were inspired by God.”
“Like the boys that writ the bible.” This interjection from Willie Henry. Bill cast a tolerant look in his general direction.
“It’s not going to last, is it?” asked Jim. What was this anyway? They’d been getting ready to drink Bill’s blood before the priest came in and now it was all sweetness and light. I wasn’t exactly in the right condition to get to the bottom of the new dispensation and of course I’d missed a few installments but it nearly seemed in my tender state of mind as if Hourigan had been maybe sent in by God Himself. For behold, every mountain and hill shall be made low and the something shall be made straight? And the something something smooth?
“What’s not going to last?” said Bill. “The war?”
“No, I mean America,” said Jim. “Sure it’s an empire isn’t it? And empires all end, right?”
Bill was in his element all right. I saw him throw one or two darting looks at my pajama bottoms but he was on a roll and not inclined to be sidetracked. “It is. It’s been an empire for well over a hundred years now and as for lasting I’d give it another couple of hundred years at most.”
The scullery door swung open and there was Mammy with a steaming teapot in one hand and a plate of Madeira in the other. I didn’t buy Madeira. Somebody must have brought it in. The rest of the caterers, four in number, stood in a row behind her carrying trays of cups and saucers, milk and sugar and platefuls of
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