Shamrock Shenanigans

“Did you do anything special for St. Patrick’s Day?” Holly asked before she took a long sip of coffee.

It was the Sunday after St. Patrick’s Day and the best friends were seated on their favorite bench next to the river.

Aaron shrugged.  “It was just any other work day for me.  The only difference was that there was much more green involved.

She nodded.  “At least green looks good on you.”

He smiled and then gulped down some of his Snapple.  “Thanks for noticing.  What did you do?”

“I went to a bar with some coworkers, had a few drinks, danced a little to the band,” she replied.

“So a typical Friday night for you,” he quipped.

She smiled and nodded.

“As you know, my heritage is half Irish, so I’ve got nothing against the holiday,” he began what sounded like one of his classic rants,”but what I don’t get it what’s the big deal about St. Patrick.  Did you know he isn’t even Irish?”

“He’s Welsh I believe,” she answered correctly for one hundred dollars and control of the board.

“That’s right,” he confirmed.  “And what’s he famous for?  He drove the snakes out of Ireland.  Does that mean he’s also the patron saint of exterminators?  Is he the Pied Piper of the Catholic Church?  Again, nothing against the guy or the holiday, but why does ridding a nation of slithering creatures merit a holiday?  And a very festive one at that…”

“I wasn’t blessed with the same severe Catholic upbringing as you,” she remarked with a sly smile because she knew how he felt about that part of his youth.  “However, I seem to remember the snake being a major bad guy in the Bible.  I mean, the Devil took the form of one to tempt Eve into eating that apple in the Garden of Eden, right?”

“Yup,” Aaron agreed.  “And that’s when the shit really hit the fan.  Side note, it’s also a major factor as to why I don’t eat the daily recommended allowance of fruit.”

Holly giggled.

“So what you’re surmising is maybe the Church decided to boost Patty boy’s image as a snake wrangler to remind Catholics that snakes can’t be trusted?” he asked.

Holly nodded.  “Especially when they’re offering fruit.”

He chuckled and drank some more Snapple.  “Then to further reinforce the idea of not giving into snake induced temptation, St. Patrick’s big day is forever linked to overindulging in alcohol.”

“It sounds like a winning combination,” Holly observed.  “Much more effective than having scary nuns drive home the agenda with swift smacks of a ruler.”

Aaron cringed at the horrible memories that awakened from the darkest parts of his memory.

“I did watch the latest episode of The Mandalorian when I got home from work Friday night,” he suddenly remembered.  “That seemed fitting for the holiday since Grogu is green and all.”

“Maybe St. Patrick was the Mandalorian of his time,” she suggested.  “A bounty hunter sent in to bring out all the snakes.  I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold…”

Aaron rolled his eyes at her horrible Mandalorian impression.  “You should have to wear a helmet of shame for the rest of the day as punishment for that.”

“And deprive the world of this beautiful face?” she asked.  “That’s not happening.”

They both laughed and turned their attention to the river.