I know this is a couple of weeks late for St. Paddy’s Day. But I ran across this story and thought it deserved telling.
Dunn Center is slowly gaining ground on Butte, Mont., and Dublin as “the” place to be on March 17th. This year, the parade was several blocks long. Oh, they might have been scattered a little, but they did stretch clear across town.
Reminds me of a story. Most things do. It seems Paddy O’Brien had been on the wagon for several months. And his wife was really happy with him. She had a rough time for a few years and this new Paddy was a great switch. He was up early in the morning. Never late for work. Helped around the yard and never wrote a bad check. No more bringing friends home in the middle of the night for a snack. No more embarrassing her in front of friends. She was so proud.
So as St. Patrick’s Day got closer, she decided to do something special for Paddy. “Paddy,” she says, “you go to town and get me a sack of those snails and I’ll make you that escargot that you love so much. Just like you had on our honeymoon!”
Paddy was tickled to death and headed for the fish market. (Or wherever you buy snails. How would I know?) He bought a sack of snails and headed for home. But, alas, he had to pass the pub on the way home. And O’Reilly hailed him down and said “Let’s have a drink and celebrate.” Paddy declined. O’Reilly said, “Well, let’s have one to celebrate your being sober.” Well, Paddy agreed. One led to another. Pretty quick it was dark. Then nine o’clock. Then 10. Finally at midnight, he picked up his snails and headed for home.
Just as he turned up the walk into the yard, he tripped and spilled his snails all over the sidewalk. And just as he got down on his knees, Mrs. O’Brien came to the door yelling, “Paddy, is that you? Where in the devil have you been?”
Paddy just stayed down on his knees and hollered at the snails, “HURRY, LADDYS, WE’RE JUST ABOUT HOME!”