When this old battered car arrived that evening, I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw these two figures walking hand in hand towards the boat. At first I thought the little chap was a child, but I could see that he was wearing a bowler hat and suit. As they approached I realised he was a dwarf. He steered the old guy towards me and pointed in my direction.
“I’ve come to take you to the village now, Sir. We’ll try and find a doctor for you”, the old guy said in a thick Irish brogue. He stared at me blearily through glasses as thick as the bottoms of old wine bottles. I was beginning to feel uneasy about the whole thing.
“What do you do then?” I asked the little guy.
“Well Patrick doesn’t see so well, Sir, so I’m here to guide him”, he answered, smiling angelically.
“What are you all dolled up for then?” I asked him suspiciously.
Patrick and the little guy laughed, “We’ve just come back from a funeral job, Sir.” Patrick said, “That’s his best suit”.
“We ought to be leaving soon, Sir”, the little guy said. “It’ll soon be getting dark”.
I didn’t know if I could handle this. I felt like I was dying on my feet and Graham was sending me off to find some heroin. It’s bloody typical, I thought to myself, of all the taxi drivers in Ireland, I get the one that’s nearly blind and has a dwarf as a side kick. If this was all part of some bad dream I just hoped it would end soon.
I clambered into the car, closed my eyes and tried to forget where I was; if I was going to die in a car crash I didn’t want to know anything about it. I could hear the little guy’s voice as I drifted into oblivion, “Right a bit now Patrick, that’s right, we’re going past old Mrs McGinty’s place now………”.