This Mick On the Next Stool

in a pub in Ireland So this Mick on the next stool, who's as serious as Yeats but looks like Wilde, stares at me, with eyes crossed, sipping Guinness through the foam. Finally he burps and says, "I'll bet that growth is cystic. If it were on my nose, I'd light this match, hold a straight pin over it, then prick it. Poof! There'd be a belch of goat cheese, sure. But what of it? You'd need a Q-Tip, maybe a drop of p'roxide. But in two weeks new skin would bloom smoother than a baby's bum. With your luck, Yank, it would freckle." Donal Mahoney