Ticks

a flash playlet

Scene:

Mo and Joe standing outside a pub watching the rugby crowd surge passed after a humiliating defeat for the home side. Each is holding a pint from which they take generous gulps. They are dressed in track pants, for comfort; the size of their bellies giving evidence of the fact that both are strangers to exercise.

Mo:        Ah ‘tis a terrible year for ticks.

Joe:        Yer right there.

Mo:        I’m not a fan, like.

Joe:        I hear you.

Mo:        I mean what good do they do?

Joe:        Ah well, I suppose they’ll come around eventually.

Mo:        How can they come round? They are what they are.

Joe:        They could improve.

Mo:        Ah they’ll never improve. They’ve got it made as they are.

Joe:        How do ya mean?

Mo:        Well look at them. They’ve evolved to the point where they can suck the blood   out of us and spread disease at the same time.

Joe:        What are you on about? They don’t get paid enough for that.

Mo:        Paid? Jaysus, are they paying ticks now?

Joe:        They are, I think. Sure there aren’t amatours anny more.

Mo:        Do you mean to tell me there are professional ticks out there.

Joe:        Well yeah. Just look at the field there today. O’Mahony and Pearse in the front row. Every inch of them paid for. Not on the scale of them footie players beyond, mind. Sure for the money and the combined thickness of that pair, you’d expect them to be higher up the standings. They are pretty thick, though, yer right there. Not too many brains to rub together, I’d say.

Mo:        What are you on about?

Joe:        The thickness of the team, like. Sure they’re all a bit thick. Might account for them never winning.

Mo:        Ah yer daft. I’m talking about ticks. The only field that I’d ever be assessing for tickness would be the one full of sheep. The blood-sucking kind, spreading that lime disease.

Joe:        Oh yer right. I wish they’d spread lemons instead. I’m partial to a lemon.

Mo:        Lemons? Jaysus, now who’s the thick? Mind you, when it comes to sucking blood, this lot has it down. Look at all these feckers (nods towards the crowd) forked over their paycheques to watch ‘em lose.

Joe:        Yer right there, ‘specially the ones in the grandstand.

Mo:        Yeah, think of them. Now that’s thickness for ye!

Joe:        It is right enough.

Mo:        Cheers!

Joe:        Sláinte!

 

Glasses clink

Fade to black

 

 

Cape Breton Post

 

Clo Carey Feb/20

Blog challenge 2020 one word prompt: thickness

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#write28days Feb19