Stingy Jack

On one dark evening, Jack found himself in the local pub, thirsty for a glass of ale.  He had no money, of course, but that never stopped Jack.

At the end of the bar sat a lone stranger.  He was a dark sort of man, dressed in a black cloak and hat as if to shield himself from the hard Irish rains.  The man was keeping to himself, sipping from a mug of brew.  Jack made his way to the stranger and perched himself on the seat next to him.

“How are ye, sir, on this here fine evening?”

The man said nothing.

“Cat got ye tongue, boy’o?”

Again the man kept silent.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)