It was late in the pub as Nick O'Flannigan argued heatedly over the bar with two other Mollys. Between them was a datapad displaying ship schematics of various freighters, a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. "Listen mate, I don't see wha's wrong wit' a good old Bactrain," said one.
A pained look crossed the faces of the other two. "Ye' feckin' eegit Sean," replied Nick increduously, "if we go an' park one o' our ugly feckin' Bactrains outside their pretty feckin' buildin', how long ye' tink' its goin' teh' take feh' em' teh' figure out sometin' ain't feckin' right?!" "Aye well wha' bout' tha' Sair Correo we took tha' one time?" said Sean, "last I saw it was jus' sittin' down there in the hangar rustin'!" "Bloody hell this boy's thick as a feckin' battleship hull," exclaimed the third Molly as Nick buried his bearded face in his hand, "listen Sean ye' dumb feck, we need teh' be able teh' park the ting' then get far enough away before the BPA get wise..." "Aye, an' if we park a feckin' Bactrain or a stolen Sair scrapheap in front o' the BMM headquarters they ain't goin' teh' waste no time in arrestin' us an' cartin' us off teh' some feckin' hole," interjected Nick. "Tha's why it has teh' be inconfeckin'spicuous Sean ye' inbred son o' a squaddie," said the third before knocking back a swig of whiskey. "Listen Paddy," said Nick, addressing the third Molly, "ye' jus' get me them feckin' explosives an' I'll sort the ship."
Paddy nodded and made his goodbyes before leaving the pub. "And Sean, ye' pathetic excuse feh' a functionin' Molly, jus' do wha' I feckin' tell ye'," Nick said, "if ye' weren't me ma's sisters half brother I'da' left ye' stewin' in tha' feckin' toilet I found ye' passed out in!"
Sean skulked off dejectedly to a corner of the pub, nursing his whiskey sullenly as he went.
Nick stashed away the pad and went back to cleaning the bar, muttering under his breath...
Quote:Dublin Miner: I am Gallic admiral earning money in Bretonia.