The pub door opened and a large figure, like a swollen keg of ale, rolled into the premises. Another equally rotund chap was at his heels. The first one, Huw ‘Jars’ Scanlan, spilt himself into the largest chair in the bar, the second, Hugh ‘Janus’ O’ Keefe, purchased two pints of stout. He carried them across to the table with the reverence of a court servant carrying an embroidered cushion for a monarch. The cream crowns atop the beer maintained unruffled dignity during their journey.
‘I’m considering going for the cloth,’ O’ Keefe said.
‘The table’s clean sure.’
‘The priesthood, Jars, I’m wrestling with the idea.’
‘Haven’t you been wrestling with high-flown notions since childhood? If ever a philosopher emerged from a cradle, `twas yourself.’
‘I believe God is calling me.’
‘That’d be the bar. I’ll get you another pint. It’ll take away that sinful thought.’
‘What sinful…?’
‘God and yourself. The very idea!’
‘I’m twenty-five, Jars, a base civil servant. An image of decades of dull employment nags me daily.’
‘A priest? Mmm, interesting. How’s about a spot of role play around that topic? Would you hear my confession, Father O’ Keefe?’
‘Wha-at?’
‘Bless me father, `tis two weeks since my last confession. I’m guilty of the sin of envy.’
‘Who or what have you envied, my son?’
‘I’ve a friend who has all I haven’t: government job for life, pension, regular income, perks, and a rake of lazy workdays.’
‘Have you discussed your sin with your friend?’
‘The amadán envies me. My call centre only use me when they’re desperate, so I’m broke. But doesn’t your man think I’m as free as the birds.’
‘The concept of envy, my son, is mighty interesting philosophically. Do you know what Plato said about it?’
‘This isn’t working, Janus! Why don’t I be the priest?’
‘I’m just getting the hang of it!’
‘I can’t play a penitent. And you’re the man is full of guilt. Reverse roles!’
‘O-K. Bless me Father Scanlan. I’m full of self-pity. Is that a venal or a mortal sin, father?’
‘It depends on the severity. Have you neglected others while wrapped up in yourself?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Have you failed to buy your round in the pub?’
‘Never.’
‘Failed to pay attention, wreathed in your own misery, when your best friend tells you about his woes?’
‘My friends are important to me.’
‘You’ve good Christian values so. God’ll give you bonus points for your charitable concern for others.’
‘He will? Grand!’
‘Say one Hail Mary, my son, pray for me, and leave here without a stain on your soul.’
‘Thank you, father.’
‘Sorted! If that call centre gets too awful, I’m for retraining as a priest.’
‘What about me, Jars?’
‘One solution at a time, myself first.’
‘I’m still in limbo.’
‘But in a state of grace.’
‘And my bitch of a job?’
‘Keep praying to the lord. He’ll answer.’
‘He will? Well… thank you, father.’
‘Bless you my son. Pint?’
‘With a whiskey chaser.’
