[prompt] Gravediggers in Dublin, 1966

[mmexlibris]

The story arises in the unconscious.
~Dorothea Brande~



Tell me a story in comments about these guys or what's going on in this pic.

Comments

[camwyn]

Say what you like about stakes and garlic and Transylvanian counts. When it comes right down to it, the weapon that works first and best against the vampire is what it's always been: the gravedigger's spade. The stake's not for destroying, after all, it's for pinning the filthy thing down while you do the rest of the work. The garlic's not some sort of toxin that sets 'em to bursting aflame, it's just a repellent. But the spade of the gravedigger's long enough to keep the vampire's jaws and claws just out of reach, and the flat of the spade's a good strong bit of metal traveling at a good quick clip when the wielder swings it in a circle 'round. And if you can't think of what a man who works in a graveyard and sees what becomes of the dead who won't stay where they belong might not do with the edge of his spade, well, you probably oughtn't to be in this business anyway.

The important part is, it's the wet season, and ever since that bloody Romanian football team passed through here with that coach of theirs who wouldn't come out but under the heaviest cloud or the shadow of night, well, there's not a soul in this part of Dublin who doesn't stay indoors during the wet. The rites of Christian burial don't always keep dead men down as they ought, so when the sky goes gray and the sun stars sliding down and away behind the clouds, the lads with the shovels come out and wait for the next fool of a corpse to think it can go for a stroll.

There'll be beer later. For now, the lads're just getting warmed up.

[mmexlibris]

Oh CAM.

The thing that is just pitch perfect about this little piece is, I can hear the Irish accent, calmly explaining just what's going on here.

Knocked it OUTTA the PARK, my friend.

[camwyn]

*bows* Thank you kindly. Glad you approve!

[mmexlibris]

I wanna see this movie now! Someone, quick. Get Guy Ritchie onna phone!

See, when the O'Neill brothers talked their cousin Seamus into swallowing twenty packets of heroin before he came back from Cancún, they weren't planning on him dying, see. (Neither was Seamus, to be fair.)

And when you steal the down payment from your till at the bookies' office, seeing that it gets put back (less your profits, of course) becomes a rather pressing issue. Especially as Bricktop himself is coming round to have a looksee. So they didn't think nothing of going in to dig poor Seamus up to get their heroin back. (Seamus would have understood.)

Well, that was the plan, see. That is, until they ran into the boys from the Gravediggers' Union, Local 451. That was when things started to get weird.

[ashen_key]

This, Cam? Is brilliant - like Flynn, I can HEAR the Irish, and. Yes, I love this more than words can say.