The Regular (profanity present)

lahalane

Hi all.

This is a short story I wrote and I was hoping to get some feedback on it. It's different to what I normally write so I'm not really sure if it's any good. Would like to hear what others think of it.

Thanks.


The Regular

The bar door opened and Podge looked up to see who his next customer would be. A short grey haired man edged in, struggling with his umbrella and walking stick, before shutting the door behind him.

‘Ah Dougie, if that kind of weather won’t keep you away then nothing will.’ said Podge. He prepared a pint of Guinness for him.

Dougie slowly made his way into the corner and leant his plump body against the bar to catch his breath. After a few seconds he began to take off his wet overcoat. The stench from the damp flannel tickled at his nostrils as he recoiled his round face. His grey suit underneath was dry except for a few light splashes on the bottom of the trouser.

‘It’s miserable out there,’ he gasped. He hung his overcoat and umbrella on the coatstand. ‘We’ll be having a wet Christmas if it stays like that. What is it now? Three days away?’
‘That’s right Dougie, this Thursday,’ said Podge as he began to top up the Guinness.
‘I’ll have one of them too when you’re ready Podge.’
‘This one’s yours. What kind of barman would I be if I didn’t know your drink by now?’
‘Good man Podge.’

Dougie smiled and finally took his seat. He reached inside his suit jacket for his wallet and produced a five euro note and a twenty cent coin. Podge, having anticipated this, had a euro ready for him when he dropped over the pint. Dougie wiped his brow with his handkerchief, tidied his hair and waited for the pint to settle. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold winter air. When he was content that he had made himself look respectable again, he took a long slug of his pint and settled back into his seat.

He looked around the room and noticed only four punters inside.
‘Quiet again tonight Podge.’
‘Ya the fecking off licences have all the pubs destroyed.’ Podge replied.
‘Have them destroyed.’ Dougie said, reiterating Podge’s point.
‘There might be a bit of a stir later on with the match though.’
‘Oh right, who have we in that one then?’
‘Man United are playing someone. I can’t remember who but they’re nobody good anyway.’
‘Wigan,’ said Dougie, ‘I…I think I remember seeing something in the paper about them playing there tonight.’

He convinced himself that he had successfully covered his tracks. Podge smirked to himself at Dougie’s pretence of knowing nothing about soccer and playfully teased him.
‘Bloody foreign sport that soccer. A right fecking ****e game if you ask me.’
‘Oh now you said it Podge. It’s no match for the GAA that’s for sure. There’s a real man's sport.’

Podge turned towards the bar and pretended to wipe down the counter. He smiled to himself, amused with getting the desired response from his best customer. He knew that Dougie was only slating soccer to impress him. Dougie lightly tapped his fingers on the counter in sync with the tune coming from the fruit machine, oblivious to the fact that Podge was on to him.

‘Are you going down to St. Kevin’s for Christmas dinner Dougie?’
‘Oh Lord I’m not,’ Dougie said defensively, ‘I’m only 82, I’ve a few years left in me yet. I can cook my own dinner.’
‘It’s a free dinner though and they said you were more than welcome when you were in there with your hip.’
‘If they see me going in, they’ll think I’m helpless altogether and bloody keep me there.’
‘Ah well think about it anyway,’ Podge said, feeling guilty thinking of Dougie eating Christmas dinner alone, ‘I’d go myself if I was offered free food.’

Dougie removed his hand from the counter, paranoid about how frail looking it appeared.
‘I’d be only eating some other poor beggar’s dinner.’
Podge, realising that he wouldn’t convince Dougie to change his mind, decided to leave it.

‘How’s that dog of yours?’
‘Oh he’s grand I suppose. Costs me a bloody arm and a leg to feed him.’
‘Have you named him yet?’
‘No, he comes anyway when I whistle so I never felt a need.’
‘Imagine having a dog that long and never naming him.’ said Podge laughing.
‘Ah he’s only a bloody dog anyway. He’s lucky enough to have a roof over his head at all.’ Dougie grinned.



The conversation continued over the next two hours as a few more people came in to the pub. Podge didn’t mind talking to Dougie, even though their conversations didn’t seem to vary that much. It made him feel that bit smarter to have a wise old man agreeing with the points he was making, although deep down he knew that no matter what Dougie thought about something, he would always agree with him anyway.

They were just in the middle of discussing the ‘bollocks of a Taoiseach’ again when three young lads wandered in, kitted out in Manchester United shirts. Dougie, just after ordering a third pint, handed over another five euro note and twenty cent coin as he sussed out the newcomers. Podge gave him his one euro change and then switched on the television for the match. The lads sat at the bar and ordered soft drinks. Dougie turned to the nearest one and attempted to make conversation while Podge was busy serving them.

‘Should be a handy one for United, they’re in good form.’
‘No easy games.’ he replied abruptly, without even turning to face him.
Podge noticed this and shot the young lad a glance and he reluctantly re-engaged Dougie.
‘Rooney’s going well though.’
‘Oh he’ll go to town tonight if they can’t manage him. I can see him getting a hat trick.’
Podge left them talking about the soccer match, content that his best customer was now getting the respect he deserved. He did his best to stay out of sight so Dougie could enjoy the game without worrying about giving away his poorly kept secret.

At half time the score was 1-0 to Manchester United with Rooney getting on the score sheet to Dougie’s delight. He turned back to the three lads to get their half time verdicts.
‘They’re on top now aren’t they?’
They had got up and were heading towards the smoking room in the back.
‘Forty five minutes and only one goal,’ Podge said, ‘boring bloody game.’
‘No action at all,’ replied Dougie, ‘not like a hurling match Podge.’

Satisfied with distracting him from the let down of being ignored again by the lads, he went on to lecture him about why hurlers were much tougher than soccer players. Dougie listened attentively, nodding in agreement at all that he had to say and occasionally butting in to say ‘That’s right Podge, now you have it.’

The three lads came back in and took their seats again. The smell of smoke encapsulated the bar and Podge could see Dougie raise his hand to his nose to try to block the odour. He opened a bag of crisps and laid them in front of him to try to combat the smell.
‘Will you have a Tayto Dougie?’
‘I’ll have one so.’
He took a small crisp and crunched on it.
‘Take a few, I won’t eat them all.’
Dougie thanked him and picked up a few more.

Podge could see one of the lads eyeing up the crisps and sniggered to himself, knowing that he wasn’t brazen enough to try to take one. He knew that he wouldn’t buy a pack for himself either, none of them ever did. They came in regularly for midweek matches but only ever bought a Coke each. He knew that they purposely tried to spend the bare minimum just so they could have the comfort of watching the match on satellite while saving their money.

He didn’t think much of them. They came across as rude and would gladly spend the night guffawing amongst themselves, ignoring Dougie, if it weren’t for him. If he didn’t know all of their fathers very well, he would tell them to feck off for good. Instead he had to be content with making sure that they were as respectful to him as possible and more importantly, respectful to dear old Dougie.

‘Looking good for the win now lads.’ said Dougie.
‘Hopefully now.’ one of them answered, with a forced level of enthusiasm as he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Podge was staring at them.
‘Come on now United.’ Dougie urged passionately as the match kicked off again, forgetting that Podge was within earshot.



The full time whistle blew and Dougie joined the three lads in applauding as Manchester United had won 5-0.
‘Didn’t I say that Rooney would score the hat trick,’ he proudly exclaimed, ‘didn’t I say it?’
The three lads were busy gathering their things for a hasty exit after enduring too much of his ongoing commentary and ignored him again.
Podge, noticing this, piped up to give Dougie his dues.
‘Did you get it right again Dougie? You know more about football than the three of them combined and you don’t even follow the shagging thing.’
They left the pub whispering and sniggering to themselves, not even bothering to say goodbye.

‘Three ****ing pricks,’ sneered Podge as the door shut, ‘They’ve no respect.’
‘No manners,’ offered Dougie, ‘bloody kids today are ignorant little ****es.’
‘In here two hours and they didn’t spend a tenner between the lot of them. I could do without that kind of custom. Bunch of pricks.’
‘You’re dead right. You tell them Podge boy, you tell them.’
Podge didn’t really care about the money but the lack of respect they showed to Dougie really riled him.
‘I’ll have another pint anyway before I hit the road, never mind them feckers.’
‘No problem Dougie. Your fifth pint and not one between the lot of them, like the score in the match.’
‘Dead right Podge,’ Dougie said with a chuckle, ‘dead right.’
‘You’re Man United and they’re Wigan. You’ve the real class. You’d beat them ****ers every day of the week.
‘Bloody ignorant ****es.’

Podge finished pouring the Guinness and gave it to him.
‘Good man Podge,’ said Dougie, as he handed him a fiver in return, ‘Can I get four twenty cent coins in change please?’
‘No bother Dougie.’ Podge replied.
He had gotten used to all of Dougie's habits and had the stack of twenty cents neatly built up beside the till. After he'd finished his pint, Dougie put on his overcoat and got his umbrella and walking stick. He thanked Podge, said goodbye and left for his short walk home.



Dougie opened his back door and turned on the light. A dog came hobbling over to greet him.
‘Hello Busby,’ Dougie said excitedly, ‘Did you miss me?’
Busby’s tail wagged back and forth slowly as he obediently waited for his master to take off his overcoat and hang it up with the umbrella on the hooks on the back of the door.

‘Did you mind the house for me while I was gone?’
He bent down to pat the dog on the head. Busby licked his hand as he stroked him.
‘Well aren’t you a brave little thing. Come on now and we'll make you your supper as a reward for minding the house.’

The little terrier followed Dougie into the kitchen and watched as he opened the fridge and produced a tin of Pedigree Chum.
‘We won 5-0 tonight Busby. Two points clear now and a game in hand.’
He poured the remaining half of the tin into a bowl and laid it down for the dog beside his basket.

‘Wait until you see what I’ll have for you Christmas Day for your supper. A lovely little bit of turkey from St. Kevin’s.’
He bent down to stroke Busby again.
‘You love your Christmas turkey from St. Kevin’s, don’t you boy.’
He got to his feet and made for his bedroom.
‘Goodnight Busby, see you in the morning.’ said Dougie, as he switched off the light and closed the door behind him.

Rubecula

I liked that story. I got right into it and could picture the scene in the pub very easily. Nice.