DANNY'S OWN STORY BY DON MARQUIS TO MY ... - Pink Monkey

"What might your trade be?" she asts, sizing
me up careful; and I thinks I'll hand her one to
chew on she ain't never hearn tell of before.
"I'm a agnostic by trade," I says. I spotted
that there word in a religious book one time, and
that's the first chancet I ever has to try it on any one.
You can't never tell what them reg'lar sockdologers
is going to do till you tries them.
"I see," says she. But I seen she didn't see.
And I didn't help her none. She would of ruther
died than to let on she didn't see. The Irish is
like that. Purty soon she says:
"Ain't that the dangerous kind o' work, though!"
"It is," I says. And says nothing further.
She sets down and folds her arms, like she was
thinking of it, watching my hands closet all the
time I was eating, like she's looking fur scars where
something slipped when I done that agnostic work.
Purty soon she says:
"Me brother Michael was kilt at it in the old
country. He was the most vinturesome lad of
thim all!"
"Did it fly up and hit him?" I asts her. I
was wondering w'ether she is making fun of me or
am I making fun of her. Them Irish is like that,
you can never tell which.
"No," says she, "he fell off of it. And I'm thinking
you don't know what it is yourself." And the
next thing I know I'm eased out o' the back door
and she's grinning at me scornful through the
crack of it.
So I was walking slow around toward the front
of the house thinking how the Irish was a great
nation, and what shall I do now, anyhow? And
I says to myself: "Danny, you was a fool to let
that circus walk off and leave you asleep in this