I am a fool. Drinking all day, betting all night. Guess I should've know it would come to this. I've got a gun in one hand, a mask on my face and a burning passion, sometimes a debt will make you do anything, especially if your debt is to the wrong people. Damn Mafia. Should've known it would come to this. You want some advise? Don't take loans from anyone, not even the bank. Well guess its show time. The night it was dark, too dark, the wind was breezing cold I felt a shiver down my spine, or maybe that was just the fear of getting caught, it was a basic job, get in, rob the shop, get out. It won't be enough, but it's a start, a damn well start. The automatic doors opened up, the foreign bugger who I was about to rob, god rest his soul, said the basic "hello, how are you" in his thick Arabian accent. I walked up, pointed the gun to his head, and said "open the damn register" though my words were slurred and drunken so it sounded like "o..open ze dun csh register" but he got the hint. Next thing he's packing my sins in a nice plastic bag, or so I thought. Then a gun. That bastard pulled a gun on me. I did the most logical thing, I shot him. A bullet, straight throw his forehead. I took my sins, and was met with sirens. Two cars, "put your hands up", the bloody pigs, all willy nilly to beat up the bad guy. I had no choice of course. Hands up, while I was escorted to a nice little black and white police car.

Here it is, the trial, I come ,in my lovely suit and tie, with a lawyer by my side. Poor lass wasn't gonna win this one. I remember her words,"admit this one an accident and you were drunk. Be ready to accept the consequences". Bitch ain't in my position, she ain't looking at 20 to life.

The judge entered, we all stood, then we sat. "Mr Harry Smith, you are being accused of first degree murder and armed robbery What do you have to say for yourself?" I was prepared, my lawyer, she was gorgeous, hair was blonde and it sparkled in your eyes I tell you. She was thin yet I'd say she was big in the right places, suit definitely didn't hide her features. I almost got distracted for a second. "Your honour at the time of the robbery I was heavily under the influence and was not considering the consequences, but now I'm ready to face them". Posh nonsense. I didn't wanna go to jail, I'd rather be on the run, that'd be an adventure; looking behind your shoulder every second, Keeping your head down, no license, no credit card. I ain't falling for them movies, don't go to Mexico, you might as well kiss your life away, Mexico ain't no place for a British man, Americans have it bad but I ain't sure what the Brits get. The court room was terrible, too quiet, everyone leaning in and waiting for the results. Poor Arab lads family in the back corner, crying their hearts out, he wanted to shoot me you foreign pricks. I swear I should've stayed in London, it wasn't much but it was home. The judge spoke up over all my mind boggling nonsense,"Mr Smith must I remind you that the man was shot the moment you turned around and that you did not hesitate". Really bitch? You're gonna play that card, the bastard went for his gun and I shot, I didn't shoot him because I wanted to, you're just lucky I can keep it in. "Do you accept your actions and the consequences". Nope not one bit you sad old cow. Do you get off to watching people get lifed off? "Yes I do your honour". This bitch, she gave me that stink eye, like she wanted me to give her a reason to send me there forever. Her eyes shifted between me, the widowed wife of the Arab and that widows father. "Very well" she rang out like a god damn horn,"Mr Harry Smith I sentence you to 20 years in Boston's maximum security prison-the wall, with a chance of parole after 16 years, seeing as it's your first offence". Well she didn't realise it was my first offence in America, in England I'd have spent 2 lifetimes in there. She banged the hammer, looks like I'm in. Then the quiet room died when mumbling rang out and that smart ass Arab dad rang out in his fat, ratty voice ,"20 years! He's a murdering coward I want him dead". Oh you entitled bastard, if I wasn't in cuffs already my hands would be on your throat. So of course I shot back in a different way,"shut your whole you foreign, fat bastard and take your widowed daughter with you". I'll admit it was a bit far, but all that happened was I walked out smiling with my chin up high. Glares coming from left, right and centre but oh I could not care.

Now I'm at the station waiting on my transfer, officers didn't like me, but I sure as shit didn't like them, I had one other feller next to me. Staring me down, but it weren't in hate, it was more as a curious look. "What have you been doing now," some police officer, mid twenties, brown hair, real fat bastard, walks up to the feller by my right,"you've been in and out of jail for years Sean and now we've got you, murder ain't something we take well to around here and your boss ain't bailing you today, that little Irish mafia of yours is done. But I'll keep my promise not to tell anyone so long as you keep the money coming," that crooked cop bastard, forgets his service and joins his crime. However, that little spot there intrigued me (Irish mafia?) now that's quite the position but just how high up are you sir? The cop knows you by name and he knows about the payments. "Listen here you crooked nosed cop bastard" Sean replied in his Irish accent "you don't speak to me that way, I'll have your balls served on a platter to your wife while I give her the best sausage on offer, MINE". NOW THAT. That was how you dealt with a bastard. Of course copper didn't take so well to that and gave Sean (the ginger lad) a large right hook around the face, the fatties belly moving with his fist. Sure enough, it connected and the poor lad got himself a black eye. Next thing you know the buggers walking off, still facing us, but I decided I want some fun, I'm going to jail anyway, let's play around a little. So as the fat prick grins I gave him a spit to the face, trickles down his eye and straight along his cheek, real nasty. Sean laughs "look at you ya fat bastard I think somethings on your face might wanna have a wipe to get that off, come here I'll give you one". Fat copper walks up to me and I can read that there badge on his chest 'Officer Daniel Walsh' looks down at me big wide spot of spit straight on his face oh he sure was mad. Gave me a right punch to the gut and knocked the wind outa me, once again his fat moving with his arm. He turns to Sean ,"really? well give it here". This idiot forgot the boy had his arms cuffed and before you know it, Sean spat right in his eye,"there you go buddie would you like something else? Free of charge of course". 'Officer Walshie' just looks down and says,"you're lucky you're part of that mafia otherwise you'd be sat in a puddle of your own piss". Next thing you know he's walking out of the room. Sean turns to me big smile on his face,poor ginger hair in a tizzie,"you ma friend are a right laugh I tell ya spitting on him like that it was glorious." Lad was laughing his head off. I decide I wanted to make an impression with this lad,"well that fat bastard was being a real wrong one and I was willing to set that man right". Sean gave me a smile and said,"where you from man, I ain't ever heard no American sound that way," well you little leprechaun I ain't no American,"came from Britain I did but this shit hole makes me wanna go back". Sean gave me a curious look,"why'd you leave your English tea and crumpets?" This lad was a joker now?"well you see mate I came here because I was living with my uncle as a teen getting a graduate degree in finance," I continue,"next thing I know my uncle kicked my ass out, I'm smoking, drinking and in debts to mafias like yours". I decided I wanted to know more on Sean,"why'd you leave your potatoes and pot of gold?"

"Because my friend why have a pot of gold when you can come here and get a warehouse of it, I'll tell ya that much". I liked this feller, he was quick with his mouth but I could tell he was serious. "So an Irish lad like you committed murder eh". "I sure as shit did and I ain't afraid to admit it, this dude approaches me at a bar while I'm chattin up a woman with some honkers I tell ya and acts all superior ,bastard smashes a bottle and throws at me so you know what I did? I pick it up and shove it in his neck got his rotten blood on my damn sleeve!" Sean paused for a little snigger,"bastard thought he was so tough well nobody messes with the O'Shea family". The O'Shea family? Guess I know the true name of the Irish mafia now. "What about you ya tea drinking bastard?" Here's a story for ya Sean,"I was robbing a petrol station, gas station these Americans call it, and this Arab worker pulls a damn gun on me so I turn around and put one between his eyes before he can bloody blink I tell ya". Sean gives me the type of look you gain from a little brother, like I'm some sort of inspiration,"you are stone hearted my buddy, we could use a guy like you ready to shoot anyone, like that fat bastard, the moment I get hold of a phone he's a gonna be done for, nobody be threatening me and getting away". I couldn't bring to tell him it was my first kill, I mean the boy looked as though he wanted to be me and I never felt so honoured before ,hell, I think he loved me more then anyone else ever has. I mean when your parents were druggies and your uncle was a heartless drunk and gambler you tend to be hated. Next thing I know a female officer walks in, ugly one she was, wrinkly, short brown hair and a resting bitch face. "Shut it you two, bus is here and you're on you way down to The Wall," next thing Sean mumbles

"póg mo thóin tú seanbhó"

I'm guessing it was some sort of Irish insult.

Who knows?