Carrion Coercion

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I used to live in the north outskirts of Belfast a few years back when I was at uni. I lived with three other fellas in this house near the university campus. They were all crazy lads from County Armagh in the restless border area and one of them, Brenny, was obsessed with animal traps. These are banned in the UK and Ireland and his dad made them for placing around the fields to catch any vermin or british soldiers. He brought some of these traps up to our student house and set them in the bit of waste ground behind our backyard where we soon caught six cats and a little dog.
Anyway, one day while I was cutting through this nice neighbourhood that’s between the uni campus and our house, I heard American accents and saw this Yank family were moving into this house. They even had this big black american ‘Jeep’ thing with this bible basher fish sign on it. I says to me house mates when I got in about the yank happyclapper types moving into one of the nice houses and Brenny says ‘That’s fuggin terrible! The dirty feckers’ll ruin the area!’.
So he hatches a plan. We find an old carrycot in the bit of waste ground behind the house and shovel the now unrecognisable decomposed carcass of the little dog into it and pin a note saying, “PLEASE TAKE CARE OF MY BABY” to the cover. Then we drove to their house, put the cot on their step and rang the bell. Jesus! You should have heard the screams! What craic! How we laughed! Next week we chucked all our dead cats on their lawn.
But a month later it seemed they were staying put. So to make the message loud and clear we scratched “GO HOME YANKS!” on their Jeep, slashed their tyres and gave their big fluffy sheepdog a poisoned steak. They moved out pretty soon after that, the weirdo feckers! A nice, decent catholic family lives there now.

Gaad bless y’awll!

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