“So I picked up this midget hitch-hiking,” he started.
You know it’s a good story when it starts like that. Particularly when it’s my Da telling it.
“Used to want to be a midget wrestler, he did. The guy thought wrestling was like that shite you see on teevee. I guess he got a big surprise there. Anyway, he gave up on that idea, and then this one time I saw the guy just by the bend in the highway just north of D-
“So I see this guy, and he’s all cut up. Half-cut -drunk, I mean- and cut to hell. Bleeding and giggling to beat all hell. I stop for him and I say, ‘Larry’ – that was his name, you know – ‘what the hell happened?’
“And the guy tells me he went to the bar in D- for some Hallowe’en party and a bunch of Indians walk in. The guy says, ‘so I sez to them, geez, you guys have the best costumes here, and they sez to me, what’re you talking about, and I sez to them well, you’re all dressed up like Indians!’ I guess they beat the midget up, but he seemed pretty happy about it.”
I love Christmas.