It's funny when and where inspiration will strike. I haven't felt up to writing the last few days since I had to have my beloved dog, Levi, put to sleep on Sunday. But I've been trying to keep busy and work my way through my grief. I spied this challenge today on one of my S&H lists and was inspired to write something. It proved to be a much needed distraction.
All standard disclaimers apply.
Honorary Irishmen
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Ken Hutchinson winced as a loud banging sounded on his door. Knowing it was his ever-impatient partner, Hutch took his sweet time getting up off the couch and strolling across the living room to answer. He pulled the door open mid-knock, and David Starsky nearly tumbled across the threshold.
"Sheesh. Took ya long enough!" groused the dark-haired detective. "You ready to go?"
"Go? Go where?"
"Go where? Don't tell me you forgot?" moaned Dave. He pointed expectantly at his white t-shirt which was emblazoned with a giant green shamrock and the words "Erin Go Bragh".
Ken raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"I can't believe it. You DID forget. What day is today?"
"March 16."
"Uh uh. It's March 17. St. Patrick's Day! We're going down to that pub 'Kiss the Blarney Stone' on Bay Boulevard. Remember?"
"Crap. It's the 17th?"
"Yeah. C'mon, Hutch. Go get ready. Katie Gallagher's waitin' for me."
"Who's Katie Gallagher?"
"The pot of gold at the end of my rainbow."
"Heh. Knowing your luck with women sometimes, it's more likely she'll be your wailing banshee."
"Don't you ever listen to me when I talk?"
"Not if I can help it."
Starsky huffed out an annoyed breath. "I told you all about Katie Gallagher. She owns 'Kiss the Blarney Stone'. She invited us both to come down for the St. Patrick's Day Party and hear her family's band 'Luck o' the Irish'. I hear they're pretty good."
"You sure the poor wee lass just didn't think you were a rogue leprechaun?"
"Ha ha. You're a regular Bob Hope. Go. Get. Ready. The green beer's awaitin'."
"Okay, fine." Hutch disappeared into his bedroom, returning a short time later, dressed and ready to go.
"That's what you're wearing?" Starsky gestured to Hutch's blue jeans, gray plaid shirt, and leather jacket.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Well, don't you have anything green?"
"Not anymore. My green turtleneck bit the dust last week when I tackled that suspect."
"Nevermind. I've got a Shilelagh in my car you can carry."
"I'm not carrying a club into a pub." Hutch rubbed his fingers between his eyes, "Okay, that has to be the weirdest thing I've ever said. So tell me again, how'd you and Katie Gallagher meet?" The two detectives exited the house and walked toward the red Torino.
"You know Sean O'Reilly and Kevin Sullivan down at the station?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, they both tried to get a date with her and she turned them down."
"So you took up the challenge?"
"Yeah, something like that. Managed to at least get a first date with her. She liked me enough to invite me to this party."
"It's a bar. Everyone's invited to the party."
"Well, yeah, but we got special invites. Especially since I arranged for you to be her best friend's date."
"Wait—what? Date?"
"Man, Hutch, you really DON'T listen to me sometimes. I told you, when I told you about the party, that Katie can't wait for you to meet her best friend, Sinead McMuffin.
"McMuffin? Are you serious?"
Starsky rolled his eyes and growled, "Just get in the car."
Fin
