Heath, OH – Glasses were raised in honor of Francis O’Reilly and his newborn son Thomas at the Heath Irish-American Sports Club last evening, but the mood was less than celebratory. “Just look at him.” O’Reilly said, casting a hand toward Thomas’s bassinet. “You can tell the poor bastard’s got me coursing through his veins just by the way he lays there, doing nothing.”
O’Reilly’s wife Jessica, seated beside Francis enjoying a gin and tonic after a spirited breast-feeding session, quickly countered. “Don’t flatter yourself, old man.” She spat. “The boy’s expellin’ more energy now than you ever have, includin’ the night he was conceived.”
“On second thought,” Francis returned, “the kid probably ain’t even mine! With the neon bouncing off his face like that he kinda looks like Seamus.”
As Seamus Sullivan excused himself to the little boys’ room, Jessica leaned in toward Thomas and cooed. “Don’t listen to your father. You can be anything you want to be … construction worker, house painter, short-order cook …”
“… Convicted felon, pedophile, Catholic priest.” Francis finished. “He’ll never amount to shit, just like his old man and his old man's old man before him!”
Fortunately, there’s still time for Thomas to prove his father wrong, perhaps by someday enrolling in a technical college or joining the Navy. Only time will tell.
