Part 2
B
Boxes and Bitches

Christy Grey, the farmer from Cavan was so delighted with his new girlfriend, Fionnula O Flaherty, that he invited her over to his farmhouse for dinner. Fionnula was smitten with Christy and agreed straight away to the invitation. She arrived at his door with her music box. A music box that her late mother had left to her and she wouldn’t go anywhere without it. The one rule that Fionnula O Flaherty had, was that no-one ever, ever touched her box. It was a rule that had cost her dearly in the past. She had met a man years ago and had fallen in love, but he dumped her, when she flatly refused to let him anywhere near her box. She knocked on Christy’s door and hoped in her heart that he would be different.

Christy opened the door and invited Fionnula in, giving her a second glance at the fact that she was tightly holding onto her box. Fionnula sat down at the kitchen table and Christy served up a fine meal. Christy, stuck for conversation, eventually asked the obvious. ‘That’s a gorgeous box, you have there Fionnula, but why have you got it out?’ Fionnula, looked at her box and gripped it tighter. ‘T’was my mothers box’, she replied. ‘I bring it everywhere with me’. Christy just nodded, ‘can I see it closer? Can I touch it like?’ He asked. ‘I’m sorry Christy’, Fionnula started, ‘no-one has ever touched my box before and I’d prefer if you didn’t’. Christy was about to speak again when a loud howling and screeching could be heard from outside.

‘What the hell is that?’, Fionnula asked nervously. ‘Ah, Jaysus’, Christy shouted as he jumped up from the table, ‘the feckin b*tches must be chasing the hens around again’. Christy rushed out the door followed in close pursuit by Fionnula. Sure enough the dogs were chasing the hens around the yard, Christy rounded up the three dogs and put them back in their pen.

Fionnula stood at the pen admiring the animals, ‘they’re gorgeous’, she said, down on her hunkers, still holding on tightly to her box. ‘Finest b*tches, in Ireland’, Christy exclaimed proudly. ‘See that feckin’ b*tch there’, Christy pointed at one of them. Fionnula looked at where his finger was pointing and nodded. ‘That one is a champion b*tch, Jaysus, many a man would give his right arm for a b*tch like that one, a right feckin’ b*tch, she is’. The dogs all of a sudden ran into their kennel, whimpering as they went. Christy and Fionnula turned to see what had startled them and sent them running. ‘Oh look it’s a rooster’, Fionnula said excitedly. Christy smiled, ‘that’s the posh name for him’, he joked, ‘around here, he’s known as my c*ck, and the b*tches hate the sight of my c*ck, they’re afraid of their lives of him’. Fionnula stood admiring Christy’s c*ck, still holding on tight to her box. Christy was proud as punch of his c*ck and he beamed a big smile.