The Storyteller

Piles of potatoes, mashed, perilously close to the precipice, that edge of no return, that edge of the plates which, to overshoot, meant certain doom. Carrots forming their own porous barrier between the white soft forked mounds of mash and the ever encroaching river of gravy, hot, steaming, intent on reaching the safety of their promised land, to infiltrate and turn white to brown, turn substance to mush, victory from defeat. Piles of vegetables surround the slabs of beef leaving it no option but to immerse itself in the all conquering gravy, another Sunday dinner lost to the passing world, uninterested, unmoved, without care to take so much as a look, not even a peak.

We all gather at the table of the damned. A collection of sinners feasting on the offering of another Sunday roast. There's six of us today, just six mortal souls surveying the feast in front of our eyes and collectively wondering how we'll negotiate this culinary obstacle course. I scan the others' faces for inspiration, none forthcoming. Aunt Edna looks a bit shook, as if it's just all too much. Uncle John is, well, always undaunted squinting through his round spectacles and eagerly waiting to get stuck in. My brother Sean is looking wobbly and thinking no doubt, if he can keep his pints down from the night before. Mother is fussing to get more food to the table, as if we needed any more. The Storyteller is quiet, waiting, contemplating, plotting, eyeing his static victims, ripe for the slaughter, he sits there, in wait, sharpening his mind, ready to pounce.

We begin the battle, cutting, separating, creating some order to this gastronomic array of meat, vegetables and gravy. Everyone earnestly battling through their plated feast before a word is spoken. I have made quicker progress than everyone else, uncle John, despite his early eagerness, seems to be losing in the gravy war. Aunt Edna is doing better and is already putting fork to mouth but if she doesn't improve her fork's capacity well, it's going to be a long afternoon. Brother Sean is really in an impossible situation and has to excuse himself lest he produces an additional helping of spew. Mother sees this and blesses herself. The Storyteller takes note and smiles to himself. His progress is steady but not up to my level yet.

Turning to uncle John and aunt Edna I look at them warmly, they are nice decent folk.

'Well John how's everything going these days? The house ok? How's the car?' I continue to slice my meat, beef it looks like though I can't be sure, tastes ok, maybe slightly over. Uncle John seems lost in my questions, confused, bewildered as if totally stumped by them. Has he forgotten what I asked him? Surely not. I don't think he's that deaf that he couldn't hear me. I better repeat just to be sure. 'Well John how's everything going these days? House alright? Car still going?' Uncle John stops as if irritated. Aunt Edna steps in and gives uncle John a light punch on his shoulder, 'Will you answer? Patrick just asked you a question. Didn't you hear him?' Turning to me, 'He's deaf as a post and won't do a thing about it. I don't know what I'm going to do with him, I really don't......'

'Everything's ok. The house, the car, everything except for the nag.' Uncle John said, winking at me, 'She never gives me a rest, always nagging and nagging. Yes I'm going a bit deaf.....'

'A bit deaf, do you hear him, sure he can't hear a thing.....'

'Maybe I choose not to hear, maybe I like silence, maybe I like........'

'He's impossible sometimes. I don't know. Anyway how things with you? Any girls on the scene?' Aunt Edna always wanted to fix me up with young ladies she knew and that always ended up with disastrous results. I went on two of these dates, just to please her and each one was like I'd walked into a mine field, horrible experiences. I looked at my mother and she saved me, 'Oh Patrick has a fine lass, oh yes a bonny girl she is too. He's doing alright with her.' Aunt Edna looked a bit put out at this news but countered, 'Well if it doesn't work out then I know just the girl....' The Storyteller stirred in his seat and cleared his throat. We all braced ourselves but he was, well, just clearing his throat.     

Sean retakes his seat and looks much more composed, much more at ease. He moves a bit of potato to the other side of his plate and moves some carrots into the vacant space. I can almost hear his mind working, he looks perplexed and then has a brainwave to shake loads of salt down on the mountainous swathes of white whilst covering the carrots with a white dusting at the same time. He sits back and surveys his plate and gingerly ventures a fork into the edge of the mash and carefully brings it to his lips and seems relieved to have survived the first mouthful with no accidents. Aunt Edna is looking fresher suddenly and I know Sean is next in the firing line. Sean just continues unsuspecting, maybe he missed aunt Edna's last salvo aimed in my direction. She straightens herself(bad sign for poor Sean) and takes a little sip of water, 'Sean have you any nice girls that you're keeping hidden from us?' Sean leans back in his chair and looks under the table, 'No Edna they're not hiding under the table, though I could have sworn there was a couple of chicks under there earlier.' Aunt Edna was unrelenting and not amused by Sean's antics, 'How about in your work, you must meet plenty through your job? Any nice ones that you can tell your aunt about?' Aunt Edna said probing.

'I could but I don't want to put you off your dinner. I am seeing this girl from up north.....'

The Storyteller shifts uncomfortably as he seems to disapprove of the choice of a 'girl from up north', clears his throat again but nothing vocal is heard. We relax for the moment as we all set about chipping away at the colossal, daunting, piles in front of us but everyone is making progress, even the Storyteller, who remains silent and engaged in slicing his beef.

Aunt Edna isn't going to be shaken off that easily, 'Sean, em, I know a girl, a lovely girl she is too, I think she's from Carlow, yes very attractive, I can pass on your number if you like? Much more reliable than those slips from up north. How about it?' Mother looks at Sean and mouths 'Be nice' Sean swallows a piece of beef and takes a drink to help it down. 'Ah sure I suppose there's no harm in it. Me and, eh, Rhonda are only having a laugh....' Quickly adding so as not to imply anything sexual,' Yeah we have a laugh playing cards but, well, maybe your one from Carlow might be able to teach a thing or two. Sure I'll give you my number before you hit the road.' Mother breathes a sigh of relief, Sean winks at her and she smiles. The Storyteller continues his assault on potato mountain but doesn't speak. He does allow himself a little smirk as he eats but stays silent for now.

I lean over closer to Sean and I whisper, 'Any sign of action yet?'

'No, still quiet. But it's on its way.' We both cast a sly look towards the end of the table. The Storyteller is reaching for the gravy boat. I whisper to Sean again, 'And we have lift off in twenty seconds.' Sean sighs and makes an excuse to leave the table. Mother just shakes her head. 'What am I going to do with that boy?' She looks at aunt Edna. Aunt Edna is trying hard to swallow a grisly bit of beef and isn't, for the moment, in a position to answer. I step in to his defence, 'Sean just is, you know, looking at his options, em, like choosing the freshest head of lettuce at the supermarket, he's being careful and wants to walk away with the best in store as it were.' Aunt Edna settled, as if put at ease by my argument in Sean's favour and continued eating in silence. Mother too had become pacified so I was pleased with my interjection. Sean returned shortly to looks of approval from mother and aunt Edna, gave me the 'thumbs up' sign. There was a lull in the proceedings but the peace didn't last long.

The Storyteller launched into his party piece, needing no invitation, he just started like he always did, 'I met a man the other day and he had one leg.' He paused for a minute to make sure everyone was following then resumed, 'The man had one leg. The right leg was missing and he had a crutch. His name was Kelly. Well Kelly only had the left leg in operation with the right leg not being around on account of him losing it.' Another pause and I just shrugged my shoulders and Sean made a slashing gesture with his knife on his wrist. Aunt Edna and uncle John were lost along with mother as no one had heard of this 'Kelly' man. The Storyteller continued, 'So I asked anyway about his missing leg and when and how did he lose it.' Another pause and aunt Edna and mother had a started their only mini conversation about a neighbour's dog who had run away. I asked Sean about his evening plans and the only person paying attention to the Storyteller was uncle John so he became the one who the Storyteller focused on. 'He told me that his wife had taken the leg away to market and she said that she'd get a good price and bring back the money and they share it. So I asked him again if the leg had just fallen off and he said to me, no, the wife used the hacksaw on it and she'd be back as soon as she found a buyer for the leg and I asked him when had his wife left to find a buyer for the leg and he thought for a moment....' I pricked up my ears when I heard how outlandish this story. I cleared my own throat and said, 'No one at this table knows this man whose wife chopped off his leg to sell it and he miraculously didn't bleed to death and now he's waiting for his wife to come back.' I laughed, 'Still I suppose he can't go very far with one leg.' The Storyteller continued, 'Mother knows well who Kelly is.' Mother went on the attack, 'No I don't. I don't have a clue who this Kelly is. What's his wife's name?'

'Mary I think, anyway so he tells me that his wife left a couple of years ago with the leg but he had got a letter from his wife's sister Doris who told him that her sister, his wife, had sold the leg to the local zoo but in order for them to buy it they said that she would have to feed the leg to lions.' Another pause to have another go at his beef. Everyone was laughing but strangely caught up in this bizarre story. He took a deep breath, 'So she agreed and took the leg into the lions' cage and laid it down and ran back to the cage door but didn't she stumble and the lions ate her. But the zoo anyway agreed to buy Kelly a new leg and they said that they're very sorry but at least he wouldn't have to pay for the funeral seeing as Mrs Kelly kept the lions going for several days.' Another pause greeted with aunt Edna's open mouth and the rest of the table looking skyward in disbelief. Mother left the table and quickly brought back several different cakes much to everyone's disbelief as we were all stuffed to the gills, still it broke up the Storyteller's momentum which was to everyone's taste.

'That story is the greatest load of s...,' Sean saw his mother and aunt Edna and quickly found a word substitute, 'sugar I have ever heard in my entire life. It's total BS. You must think we're all stupid if you think any of us here are going to believe one word of it. Firstly this guy Kelly would have bled to death, secondly his wife wouldn't have had the power to saw a human leg and with a tiny hacksaw, it's total BS and thirdly if Mrs Kelly had brought the leg in the lion's den, em, the zoo owners would be liable for all sorts of crimes, accepting a human leg for animal feed, it's ridiculous. How much did the woman get paid for the leg in the first place? It's all made up nonsense.' Sean eyed the Storyteller for a response while the rest of us nibbled at the cakes. The Storyteller thought for a moment and just before Sean attacked him again replied, 'The amount paid was one hundred Euro but don't forget Kelly doesn't have to arrange a funeral for his wife nor does he have to pay for it and funerals these days cost an arm and a leg,' he said smirking, 'though in this case it only cost Kelly a leg and he gets to keep his two arms and one leg so he didn't do so bad after all that.'

'Total BS.' I said sounding irritated.

'Completely made up tripe.' Uncle John added.

'Nonsense and rubbish.' Sean said, not really caring at this stage.

'The story was hopeless and untrue, made up and pathetic.' Mother added wearily.

'Total bollocks.' Aunt Edna added. I guess no one could follow that.