For St. Patrick’s Day this year, I’ll be offering a toast to your future, Thomas O’Reilly.

Just what will you be saying in such a toast?

As you well know, I am the father of six sons, fine strapping lads. You, my poor friend, are cursed with six daughters. I’ll be toasting your future with these words: “Here’s to my friend, Thomas O’Reilly. May the sons of your daughters smile up in your face.”

Right smug you are, Brian Mulcahey. But it’s friends we’ve been for forty years and I’ll be offering up a toast to your future as well.

Just what will you be saying in such a toast?
 
I’ll be toasting your future with these words: “Here’s to your coffin Brian Mulcahey…”

Now, you well know it wasn’t offense I was meaning. 

None taken. As you well know, my daughters are lovely red headed lasses who will attract fine husbands. And, it’s you I hope to be drinking with many a year so I can brag about my grandsons. Now, as I was saying, “Here’s to your coffin Brian Mulcahey. May it be built of 100 year old oak trees…which I will plant tomorrow.”

© 2008 Cynthia Becker. Original for CCF (Becker grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology).