The beer of forgetfulness

The Catholic Father had spotted the gate to Buddhist Nirvana it seemed.

The Catholic Father had spotted the gate to Buddhist Nirvana it seemed.

Section 66 is ‘outa here’ man

Father Attaporn’s smile seemed frozen and indeed, his gaze seemed to have sighted Buddhist nirvana in the top left hand corner of the room. He inclined his head in a dignified bow.

The flock will receive catechism. You’ll have the others.

The flock will receive catechism. You’ll have the others.

“Don’t you worry Vincent …Vernon. The flock will receive catechism and religious teaching from the Fathers and Sisters. You’ll have the others.”

The ‘others’ in Vernon’s career so far had been a euphemism for the delinquents, the dregs. Didn’t sound hopeful he thought. The interview wound up as interviews do, with a race for the last laugh and the final word.

“Well thank you Mr Snipper  …Snapper. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He wouldn’t though. He was heading home to the beer of forgetfulness and not coming back. Let fate do her worst.

The beer of forgetfulness was calling.

The beer of forgetfulness was calling.

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