Bedeviled as he was at the foot of the steps of St.Audoen’s church, a monumental bowsy such as himself, accursed and cursing a whole slew of heinous imprecations at the foot of the Church, waiting for it to open on that day, for it was the morning of the feast of St.Patrick and he could hear the piercing calls of the American’s, all flocking to the parade to see the bright lights and so on and he there with a head like an iron bell and the fog of a thousand devils cascading through his poor little brain! “Can you open up, I need to say confession!” , he barely able to summon not even the slightest bit of strength to hammer on the heavy door, the door which he thought would never open. He hadn’t a bob to his name and the immaculate conception of confessions was to absolve all ills, dissolve all turmoils, and for that he would be most grateful. Sure wasn’t the drink killing him anyhow? Sure didn’t he feel the rasping pains in his lower gut for the best of an hour before he sunk that dreadful porter with the head the balls in Kennedy’s, throwing it back goodo and then the whiskys neat after that the night before, and sure hadn’t he not eaten a pick before that, sure wouldn’t the spirits on the empty stomach drive any thick headed prick around the bend no matter how strong they might think they be. Oh be God he had the rattling ghouls in the head that morning all right and sure wouldn’t the feckin’ priest just ever open the bloody door so he could be absolved and done with it now, goodo, and hear the organist pipe out whatever God foresaken wretched melodies he had for him that morning, Jesus the feckin’ shrill yelps of that would quicken any man to train a blade across his poor heart, and the shuffling of the auld dears who’d make it to the front of the queue before him and the God awful sighing and coughing and spluttering and chewing and God he’d need TWO confessions TWO bloody wafers, he’d gone too far this time, would the priest ever just condemn his poor little soul and that’d be enough for him, damn him, that’d affirm him alright, that’d confirm that he was beyond redemption, too dirty, too rotten to be redeemed, too up shit creek to paddle back down, TWOpaddles he’d need TWO BLOODY PADDLES! “Body of Christ” “Amen, Father.”

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