Vengeance

‘m sorry Peter. It’s happened far too often now. It’s over, get your stuff and leave.’ Well, that was it. 10 years in this godforsaken job and that’s how they treat me. Well you know what? Screw them. It was me that stopped that armed robbery back in ‘98. Yes, I know it was a 12 year old with a pellet gun and a Man Utd scarf as a bandana but sure Mags and Eddie that weird transition year kid hid in the back. I also fixed the radio so our customers could get their daily fix of Derek Mooney but did I even get a thankyou from that ungrateful so-and-so Gary bloody O’Brien? Nope, of course not. You know what, I’ll make them pay now. No more Mr. Nice guy, no sir. ‘If they thought I was the sort of guy to just turn to alcoholism and disappear, they are very much mistaken,’ I said to Pat the barman, as I moved on to my sixth shot of whiskey.

You know what?  I’m gonna start my own business and I’ll tell ya what: Gary’s gonna regret the day he ever tried to get rid of Mr. Peter McMahon. You know, I always fancied myself as a bit of an entrepreneur. Richard Branson, Bill Gates,  that Facebook fella and now Peter McMahon would join the list of the elites. I’d be on the front of Time Magazine while poor Gary’s business crumbles into disarray and you know what? He won’t be getting a penny from me! This time two months from now (give or take), Gary will have lost all his costumers to ‘Petes Bistro’. Okay, I know those customers usually only consist of Mary (the old lady who lives above the shop) and Mags’ husband Paul, but by the time news of my café reaches out, people will be coming from far and wide to taste my delicious sausage sandwiches. I’ll be shopping for helipads in Buncrana while Gary’s begging on the side of the street and you know what? He had his chance and he blew it. I would have been happy to have him as my business partner but after what he did to me?? Not a chance in hell, I’ll be flying business class alone thank you very much. I can just see the look of envy on his face as President  George W. Bush strides in with security guards at his side and orders a Tayto sandwich and a cup of tea. At this point, I’d imagine us being good friends.” You know what? ”I said to Pat. ”First thing tomorrow morning I’m going up to Gary’s crappy café and informing him of my plans. I might even convince Mags to join my project while I’m at it”.

I felt a chubby hand on my shoulder. I staggered to my feet and turned to see the round, red face of Pat. ‘Sorry, Pete, I’m closing up now’. I handed him a twenty euro note and left. I was surprised by the sobering effect the cold night air had on me. Just 50 metres down the road I turned the key and entered our tiny bungalow. Mam sat watching repeats of Coronation street on the sofa. ‘How was work love?’ ‘Grand,’ I replied. I made Mam a cup of tea, went up to bed and thought about asking Gary for my job back.