Brendanthology 1 | Page 16

onto our plate of eggs. Enrique, disappointed in himself for falling for the same jape twice, hung his head and exited the establishment. “Ah, bugger that sour-sport, my friend!” Brendan said as he raised himself from his chair, “Let’s have some real fun.” “Do you propose we take a go-around with Shashilda again?” Brendan gave another one of his signature laughs. Such musicality to those baritonic, dulcet tones. “Maybe later, my friend, but first why not have a true drink, no more of this pisswater!” With that, Brendan flung aside the remaining ale on our table and tromped away, not even turning his head to the protestations of the staff. I stopped before I left and knelt down to the IHOP greeter, a stunted boy with a peg leg and eyes of amber-brown. I opened his palm, and placed a penny-piece within it. “Sorry for the destruction, my boy.” I patted the lad on his mousey hair, and saw myself out. The sun blazed in my eyes, and I almost could not m