Feckin Commas

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Waiting for that small window of opportunity when the breeze would cease, he tensed with anticipation, Staring intently at ripples on the surface and feeling the caress of the breeze on his weathered face, he silently prayed for a positive outcome. It was a magical moment. The river transformed, as though the hand of God had decreed calm. Just as he prepared to cast, the phone announced the arrival of a text. ‘Ouch!’, his head struck a branch as he shot upwards.

‘Sorry, Father, a lot of commas missing, will fix ASAP. Otter’

Every trout for five hundred yards scuttled for safety as Father Brennan exploded into a tirade of abusive language, his blood pressure at a record high. Commas, bloody missing, misplaced commas. Otter wouldn’t recognise a comma even if one jumped up and bit him on the arse. He furiously typed a return text and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

‘Go back to school comma learn some grammar comma eat commas comma drink commas comma or I will shove my boot up where the sun does not shine FULL STOP’

Walking back upstream, he contemplated the boundaries of his universe, shocked at the realisation that it was an insignificant corner of an insignificant island on the edge of Europe. Their story wasn’t receiving worldwide acclamation at the pace he expected. Clearly, his myopic view of how it would be received beyond his world had been ill conceived. That his central position in his own parish held little sway elsewhere shook the foundations of all he held dear. Dropping to his knees, tears freely flowing down his cheeks, Father Brennan actually prayed, well, almost. Staring up at the darkened sky, ‘Lord, please guide this old fool. You were a fisherman, one of the first. You must have had a few tales to tell. Shine your light upon your servant and guide our book to the printing press. Amen.’

Light, glorious beams of sunlight, streamed from the heavens and shone down on this humble priest. A loud booming voice behind startled him such, he almost shat himself.

‘Father, you dropped your fags.’

He leapt to his feet, wiped away the tears and turned. ‘Jimmy, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I was searching for them, thanks.’

From Father McGargles.

2 thoughts on “Feckin Commas

    Gurgles said:
    October 8, 2014 at 2:31 am

    We men have the write to whine online, we can’t do it at home!


    jjkendrickauthor said:
    June 3, 2014 at 5:20 pm

    Stop, whining, ya, big, baby,.


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