D.Patrick Burke

Cheapest in Dallas is $2.88 a gallon, currently. In Fort Worth it was $2.75 last Thursday. I guess we are still behind, but catching up. Beats the heck out of the $3.95 I was paying a couple of months back.

Tabu

He glanced over at Burke, who looked very much at home. "Ye know, lad, ye could be right. May hap this is where the Gods relax, and dream up ways to torment us mortals." Devon chuckled, "Nay...Torment tis wha' the English do in their own idle time. Bu' no' here, jus' every where else tha' suits 'em." Deep draught was taken from wooden mug and conjuring of smoke rings continued. Moments slid past leisurly as Cork's Native Son made to continue dialog regarding English trespassing; words caught short as figure approached. He sat up quickly as Contender from earlier verbal banter laid Academic's order on table's plane. She offered warm smile to Trilby, "Fine eve to ye, Sir. Tis the first time tha' I kin recall yer being here. An' tis also to me own sights tha' ye keep trouble as yer company..." Katie laughed as glance was thrown to Devon. "Rath de' ort." "Now, now, gerl dear...Why ye go on as ye do? Bringin' the Aul Fellah inta it..." With swift action of tug, she landed in his lap and was encircled in arm bands. Devon looked to Academic as Burden made mock struggle, " Ye see, Cara...Tis trut' tha' sweet Kate tis in love wit' me ownself an' secretly pines fer me to make her an honest gerl..." Statement was rewarded with playful cuffing which displaced clay pipe and hat; not harmful to later, but former met shattered demise with floor contact. Devon winced at the damage done then cocked a brow in Trilby's direction. "True love, I tell ye...."

It was not an overlong trek to make destination's placement just down from the loom of prison existance. Equine companion was entrusted into the keeping of nearby stable by way of youth loitering near pub door; coin pressed into eagerly accepting palm. Rough wooden porch conquered, Irish Son paused hand resting on iron latch; glance sidelong from beneath battered brim to Academic. From within, the sound of horsehair taunt to strings numbering four, called with mirthful invite; soon challenged by the higher shrill of Piper's retort. Latch gave way, and as door swung inward, the pregnant loom of tobacco tickled the air without; pungent scent interwoven in varying shades of identifiable and not. Standing to one side of entrance, Devon made quick tally of all in attendance; waiting for Academic to enter the womb of Old Sod's displacement. Hailings danced back and forth with familliar warmth in greeting as dim interior was navigated and favored table procured near now sleeping hearth. Clay pipe appeared from hidden sanctuary, soon joined by pouch of desired filling. Bowl was conjured to life and rings produced drifted slugishly to the realm of beams above. Musicians changed cadence to rolic of reel and local lovely paused in passage to whisper secrets in Younger's ear before passing on. Easy smile broadened as Irish eyes followed retreat, then turned to companion. "Welcome to Valhalla, Cara. Name yer want..."

"Now, what the deevil is that supposed tae mean?" Devon started to make further comment of enigmatic characteristics when the soft sound of melodic humming drew first his focus, then person to roof's edge. Leaning forward with hands resting mini parapet's surface, he gazed upwards lane progression. Easy smile rolled his expression as eyes caught origin of sound wrapped in olive skirt and matching shawl. Sharp whistle followed by hail paused young woman's intent and she shaded her sight with delicate hand to better see. "Katie, gerl! Are ye no' a fine sight to me ownself this grand day! An' where would ye be headed stirrin' hearts where e'er ye pass?" "An' why would ye be wantin' to know, Devon Burke?" The smile that graced her features did nothing less than enhance what she had been blessed with in pale beauty. Standing to full stature, Irish Son gave smallish shrug, "It seems be a shame, fer true, tha' a colleen such as yerself should be goin' anywheres unescorted. Why, a fella would near sell his soul to be seen with yerself on his own arm..." Crossing himself, he then held one palm up and out as if taking an oath. Soft peal of feminine laughter rose to his hearing in response as young woman shook her head in amusement, "Yer a devilment, Devon Burke. A wee bit o' mischief set loose to the world. A tad early fer ye to be up an'na 'bouts to me tinkin'." "Nay, gerl....Tis the trut' tha' I had a feelin' ye would be down this way so I t'ought I would be one to be waitin' here to watch fer ye to cross. Aye ye set me heart to racin', Katie." She crossed her arms over chest, amusement still laying caress to poise, "Saint Peter will ne'er let ye up, bigh..." "Such a tin' to say. Aye, I doen t'ink me ownself will recover from yer sayin's..." Devon leaned forward, again. " Come here to me, gerl an' let me prove to ye tha' I am a fine fella o' proper beings." She waved him off, " I doen have time fer yer shannanies, now. Some o' us have to be to the Job so we can make sure there's food on'na table." "Say tis no' so, lass." Smallish pout displaced smile briefly followed by exagerated sigh. "Well then, I follow where ye go...To the ends o' the Eart', if needs be....Bu' in this case, tis only to the pub....Such a journey, fer true, bu' fer yerself, I tink I can do it." She said not another word in departure, only glanced over shoulder once as she continued forth and the echo of chime-like laughter played to Devon's hearing. Turning abruptly, he set all attention to Academic with mischievous intent surrounding youthful being. "Tis a fact tha' tis a fine place yerself has...Bu' I know a place where the sights are as a bit o' heaven come to rest here on Eart'...." A knowing wink punctuated statement. "Come on wit' ye...I be tinkin' ye could use a change o' surrounds, Cara."

Just thought I would offer a heads up.... Upon queing the Pub, McAffee threw imediate flags, three in a row: "JS Downloader BLZ" and "JS Exploit..." ( I did not catch the full Id on the second one.) When I went from main screen to one of the sub-screens, it flagged twice. It only seems to happen when I am here. ( And I do alot of research on many sites. ) Be careful out there, kiddies.

Cheshire poise regained facial arena as telling was imparted, but it was the spearheading of lingered word that stiffened laxidasical stance. A more serious nature crept into laughing eyes which one might view as an discomforting guise that lay thrawt to easy nature. Cork native stepped closer to where Academic and ex-canine held placement leaning forward just enough to capture Other's soul windows with his own. "Mayhaps there be certain wants o' differin' locals o' no' so tropic natures..."

The query gave minute halt to feline pleasuring and Devon suddenly seemed overtly aware of crystal's lacking quality. What could be said? What should not...Lower lip was caught in eye tooth grip briefly as his eyes wandered back to water's lay. "Welllll....." Crystal was suddenly thrust forward as an evasive tactic to subject pinning and porter warmed brainworks struggled with the quandry at hand. "Tis no' really me own place to be sayin' much on'na t'in'..." Mental gears slogged forward begrudgingly, "Mayhaps tis a way to distract away from his own self losin' sweet Molly...A fine gerl she was." Standing to full stature, Devon gently set companion down on former seating and streached lazily. " Tis no' as though Himself has gone braggin' on the matter round the likes o' meself. I doen know wha' the trut's be. Bu' mayhaps it be tha' o' wha' I seen o' the gerl, she's in her possession o' a firey spirit...An' Himself has a sof' spot fer wild ones; Jus' like tha' black beast he worships so dear...." He glanced to where Academic remained seated, "Mayhaps...."

farewell

Boys of Summer

Devon watched the Academic's inspection of hair line fracture with barely concealed amusement. In truth, the crack had gone completly un-noticed until mention was made upon it. The vessel's emptiness was what had brought forth comment of broken state; a state of existance that had been quickly resolved by host and gave gratuitous contentment to guest. The spuring of agitation stirred by crystal capture readily stoked the flow of mirth from Irish Son; grin kindred to feline's of Cheshire origins spread near ear to ear in response. Receiving injured soldier back into safe keeping, deep draw was taken in and appreciative nod delivered in kind. Absent mindedly, four-legged Queen of the Nile was stroked as Devon considered what could be said and what could not in relation to query poised. Another draught was taken to buy time and position shifted slightly in worn cushion support. "To the trues, I doen t'ink anyt'in' I know o' would be somt'n to suprise yerself...Ye've done yer own time in England propers an' the same ilk be here on this spit o' land." Grin pause word flow momentarily, " Ye go' yer same aristo's an' climbers playin' at the same aul games. The same secrets o' imorale doin's...An' to t'ink they call me own savages." He chuckled warmly. "Tis to me own t'inkin's, the ways o' the Port are to the likes o' the tide, itself....ebb an' flow. O' late the flow has been a bit to the heavies, bu' it shall pass. Always seems the way o' it." Pausing to wax thoughtful, Devon glanced towards the water in near distance while finishing crystal content. Dropping his voice conspiritively, a knowing wink was offered, " Ye know tha' aul fella tha' runs tha' mercantile down near the quays? Seems be tha' his priddy young bride has been playin' a wee bit o' slap an' tickle wit' a certain officer o' the Guard...." Glass condition was inspected half-heartedly, " I'll be damned if it isno' broke, as well..."

judiciary

I play the Feadóg, more commonly known as an Irish Tin Whistle. I played cello as a kid, moved on to drums, tampered with bass and guitar...Have a fiddle that hates me due to not picking it up in about a year's time.

Devon sampled porter with appreciative relish, feline companion seeing fit to use one thiegh as stage in portrayal of jaguar upon a limb. Rub was administered to near ear conjuring low rasp rumble with half closed eyes as another draught was taken. Sidelong glance was given to Elder as statements were considered; smallish sneer fleeted in response to what he knew was true regarding the Scottish Covenant and the long lines of conflict following the wake of English, Protestant and Puritan doings. "Tis trut' tha' Charlie dinna do a damned bit o' good fer the likes o' me own an' tha' bastard Cromwell did even worse...Bloody fekkin' Butcher..." His words trailed off as features pinched in deep loathing. But as sun disapears only to reappear once again, expression softened and porter was called to service once more followed by good natured hint of smile. "Twas in the neighborhood stealing horseshoes, true as true is..." Smile widened and wink readily came behind. Reclining deeper into the hold of weather worn cusions, Irish Son gazed steadily at North-Eastern cousin; small screak of protest emitting from ragdoll cat. "Actually...Twas on me way back from where me dispaced roots linger an' t'ought to stop off fer the sakes o' sakes...Me Ma always said to keep tabs wit' those o' yer own. An' since I din'na have any t'in' needin' me attentions, I landed me ownself here fer a spell." Draught was taken conjuring frown as glass was drawn away, its inner emptiness inspected; deepening facial contortion, " Tis broken, cara...I'll be damned trice. The shame o' it..."

He hovered thresh-hold long enough to instinctively glance the surround then ducked into the dim. Time was allowed his eyes to adjust as door was secured and battered hat removed. The pungent scent lingering interior byways did well to hurry Irishman's passage onto the stairwell and the bright promise of fresher air above. Pause was given in the maw of rooftop access as feline shadow brushed past booted feet and was scooped into cradled capture. Cleopatra issued forth royal glare to such insolence and showed displeasure to peon's audacity by wiggling and bracing sleek body with freedom's want. Struggle continued, but flailing started to loose urgency as pleasure spot was found soon rendering limp hang but for cranial lean into finger's rub. Conquest secured, Irish Son stepped into the open and took deeply into lungs parfume's of Tropical alchemy. "A fella could do worse than the Port, but tis true as fine as a morn can be here 'bouts, it doen compare to a Spring morn on'na banks o' the Lee..." Devon commented offhanded as Academic obtained to glasses.