1. I was in a bad mood already. I was still going through the grieving process of Claire's death and had just fallen steadily into the second stage: anger. The IRA was proving to be a successful outlet for that anger, but you still didn't want to get in my way. So one day I decided not to go home right away. Who knows, maybe I thought I'd spend the night. Home was becoming tiresome, with family and all. The point is, I went to my boyfriend's place instead. His name was Bernie. Yeah, okay, stupid name that Americans relate to Sesame Street, but, hey. He was okay.
You know how people have these little habits that get you down? For example, Bernie liked to chew gum. Actually, it was more popping gum than chewing. Well, I come over, already in a bad mood, and looking for a little attention and, well, loving, and there's Bernie lying on the couch, drinking a beer and chewing. No, wait. Popping. So, I said to him, "Bernie, you pop that gum one more time..." And he did! So I pulled out my handgun and fired two warning shots...into his head.
2. You meet interesting characters as an IRA. Hell, you meet interesting characters living in Ireland. Especially the tourists. Or just the people who aren't native. You can pick them out from a mile away. America has strange people who want to get out and "see the world." Some people have the strangest names, too. Ezekiel. Straight out of the Bible. Despite the name, however, he told me he was single and he ended up moving in. I'd go out during the day for the IRA, come home. I'd started learning the art of mixing drinks, so experimented with him when I got home and we'd have dinner.
It was like heaven in the small apartment I was renting. And then I found out. "Single" he told me? Single, my ass. Not only was he married... oh, no, he had six wives. One of those Mormons, you know. So that night when I got home, I mixed him his drink as usual. …You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic!
3. There was a point in my life when I was starting to settle down. Sort of. Wilbur and I were going pretty steady and I really was expecting a ring from him any day. Don't know if I would've said yes, but you know. That's just how it is. I really only liked Wilbur for the security.
So, one night, I was trying my hand at some cooking, this big fat chicken. I was carving away, minding my own business when in storms Wilbur, in a jealous rage. He was crazy and he kept on screaming "You've been screwing the milkman!" And then he ran into my knife! He ran into my knife ten times!
4. Here's a tip: if you're ever in America and you're arrested for something, pretend to be a foreigner. If they think you can't speak English, it's sometimes just not worth the trouble. I remember this one time, I'd been dating this guy but spent time with this other guy… Sticky situation, I'm sure you can understand. They brought me in and I start yelling in this terrible accent in Hungarian.
"Mit keresek, enn itt? Azt mondjok, hogy lakem lefogta a ferjemet en meg lecsaptam a fejet. De nem igaz, en artatlan vagyok. Nem tudom mert mondja Uncle Sam hogy en tetten. Probaltam a rendorsegen megmagyarazni de nem ertettek meg..."
"Yeah, but, did you do it?"
"Nu-uh! Not guilty!"
5. I became close friends with this Veronica chick. We were so close, some people called us sisters. We were crazy, unruly girls and decided to have fun, trying our hands at this acrobatic act. It was a blast. Still use some of those skills today, in fact. Come in handy sometimes. Anyway, my boyfriend at the time, his name was Charlie, would travel with us. Now for the last number in our act, we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row, one, two, three, four, five... Splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops, one right after the other
Well, this one night we were in Cicero, the three of us, sitting up in a hotel room, drinking and having a few laughs. We ran out of ice, so I went out to get some. I come back, open the door and there's Veronica and Charlie doing number seventeen: the spread eagle. Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out. I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, that I even knew they were dead.
6. I went through a softer stage, if you can believe it. There was this one guy I met in New York during that time. Alvin Lipschitz. He was a real artistic guy... Sensitive... A painter. But, like most painters, he was troubled. What is with that? Van Gough cut off his stinking ear! Anyway.
He was always trying to find himself. He'd go out every night looking for himself and along the way he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving. …I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive and I saw him dead.
7. So, by now you can probably tell that I've tangled with some pretty interesting guys. Interesting guys with interesting stories to accompany them. But all of them pale in comparison to this one guy…
Michael McBride. He helped me out quite a bit back when I was still with the IRA. Right in the peak of my fast, crazy height. I mean, sure, I've always been crazy, but that was during the worst… or best of it. Depends on your opinion. I sure enjoyed it. Anyway. Being with Michael was hot, steamy, and downright sexy. Plus, it was fantastic to be with someone who did about the same work I did. Course, it wasn't too long before I found out he was actually Michael Westen, American spy. A spy, for heaven's sake! …How sexy is that? That was fine. We stayed together, I just… didn't tell anyone he was actually American, not Irish. Then one morning I wake up and he's gone. Just gone. No trace. Lucky for him, too, because I wouldn't have shown any mercy that time.
A/N: Thank you to Crazy Computer's Vendetta for the inspiration.
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