The Con - Part 1

[otter]

When you look at your fly tying stuff do you wonder why 80% of it is never used.
When you open your fly boxes do you wonder why you only ever fish maybe 20 out of the 300.
When you look at your fly rods do you wonder why there is one for nearly ever day of the week or even forthnight.

Have you been conned ?

The Con

Father Brennan sat alone at the table, finishing of the rather large fry that his housekeeper had prepared for him. Lifting the last slice of toast he ceremoniously dabbed it at the remains of the greasy egg on the plate . Starting at the outside he drew ever decreasing circles until the plate was almost clean. All that remained were yellow streaks of egg yolk and some crumbs from the toast.  Folding the slice of toast he stuffed it into his mouth, chewed hard and then washed it all down with a huge mouthful of tea. A few crumbs and stray grease that clung to his lips and greying beard were soon dispatched with a solid rub from the sleeve of his jumper.

To truly savour the delights of an artery clogging greasy fry up one must do the job properly and not leave anything to chance. Father Brennan lit his first cigarette of the day and inhaled tentatively.  It took a few coughs to get the lungs kick started and working properly but soon enough the nicotine hit the spot.  A good solid belch followed by an equally loud fart and he  was ready to face the monotonous duties that were the daily life of a parish priest.

As he took the last pull of the cigarette he glanced at the horrendous clock on the mantelpiece, a gift from a parishioner that had bought it whilst on holidays in the canaries.  Bright yellow with luminous green hands.  He hated the sight of it but could never bring himself to throwing it in the bin. The clock was the only thing in the room without religious or gothic overtones. Above it hung a picture of the Sacred Heart, to its right a wooden cross and without turning around he knew that a flock of popes, all lined up in gold frames glared down on his back. He contemplated a quick gin before donning his frock and making his way to the chapel. But this was Lent so he fought the demons that suggested a large glass would make the saying of mass and the hearing of confessions more endurable, maybe a small glass or three after dinner could be allowed.

'Bacon and Cabbage this evening'; shouted Maggie his housekeeper as he made towards the front door.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph he thought, if Christ had to eat bacon and cabbage five days a week he would have nailed himself to the cross.  Father Brennan stifled his urge to scream a host of profanities at his housekeeper , sure the poor woman was doing her useless best.

'Thank you Maggie, I'll be looking forward to that, I'll be off now to say eight o'clock mass.'

When the door shut, Maggie made her way to the dining room and filled a large glass of gin. Sitting back she cursed loudly, 'bloody priest, what curse is upon me that I have to cook bacon and cabbage five days a bloody week. '

Liam O'Brien sat in the last pew at the back of the chapel and if ever a man looked out of place it was Liam. A dark woollen cap pulled down low so his eyes were barely visible between the cap and lapels of his overcoat which were turned up.  Two elderly ladies lighting candles to his far right glanced in his direction,  gave him a dirty look and continued on with their little ceremony.

How was Liam to know that men should not wear caps at mass, he had not being inside the building or any other chapel for that matter for twenty four years, not since the day he made his confirmation.  He never felt the need, he had avoided all funerals and weddings but recent events had caused him so much pain that he felt the need to go to confessions.

Father Brennan droned on from the altar, 'Holy Mary mother....., Amen. He might as well have been talking in a foreign language as far as Liam was concerned. He needed to unburden himself but had no intention to listen to the mumbo jumbo that emanated from the altar.  ' Pray for us in the hour.....Amen'.   Liam took his iphone from his pocket and googled; ' How to make confessions", a few clicks and he had all the info he needed. By the time he had checked the weather forecast and the latest sports news mass was ending.  "The mass has ended, go in peace, Amen".

Father Brennan made for the confessional and drew the door shut behind him. One by one the elderly mass goers genuflected in front of the altar before leaving the chapel, none went to confessions. Liam found this a little odd, but he supposed that if one was inclined to go to mass every day then confessions were hardly necessary.

Alone now, Liam shuffled nervously up to the confessional booth and slowly closed the door behind. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and as he sat he looked at the grill that separated him from his confessor. Father Brennan coughed which Liam incorrectly presumed was his cue to start.

'Bless me Father for I have sinned, it's been a while since my last confession'.

'Has it my son, how long.'

'Err..... twenty four years father'.

'Twenty four years, you must have a lot to confess'; Jesus thought Father Brennan glancing at his watch, I'll miss getting to the bookies.

'Christ forgives even the most ardent sinner, open your heart and tell me of your multitude of sins.'

'No multitude Father, just one, jealousy Father and its eating into me Father and I have to tell someone';  Liam sounded a little distraught.

'What are you jealous of my son.'

'Jimmy Egan, Father.'

A huge grin came over Father Brennan's face. Jimmy Egan lived in a mansion just outside the town. A very wealthy man, despicably good looking, scratch golfer and captain of the local golf club. Jimmy sat at the head of every committee, everyone's best friend and best of all Jimmy had a wife so beautiful that Miss World would look like an old sea hag in her company. It must be the wife that's the cause of the jealousy, he isn't the first to sit the far side and confess such jealousy.

'Aha , Jimmy's wife my son, say three hail Mary's and have no more thoughts about her.

'Jesus, no father, it's the fishing father, I get to the river twice a week, Jimmy goes nearly every day.'

Father Brennan nearly fell of his stool in shock.  In thirty seven years of priesting never once was he faced with such a profoundly important confession, he wasn't going to waste this opportunity .

'Say one Our Father when you get home my son. Now wait outside until I get rid of my frock and we will discuss this over a few pints. This Lent business and the daily dose of bacon and cabbage has given me with a ferocious thirst. In the name of the father and of.......Amen'


To be continued

[Moggie]

Can't wait !!!!!