so on st. patrick's day, i heard talk of a parade. i heard this from murmuring lips as i was leaving my flat to go to work. my ears perked as my shoulders drooped: a parade! downtown! right in my fucking 'hood! and i have to go to stinkin work! what a fekkin drag, man. i love my job, but fuck man, i LOVE parades!! i sighed slightly and made my way to work...
flash forward to the next morning. though i had enjoyed a friend's birthday bash (happy st flick!) the night before, i had deliciously avoided the green-beer-hangover. hurrah! so when i was awakened by strange siren sounds coming from what seemed like my deck, it wasn't a nuisance but a mere point of lazy curiosity. it was that sound they make when they don't quite turn on the siren - that half-blurb of whoop. you know? i just shrugged, rolled over and started drifting back to sleep.
and then the bagpipes started.
i know people for whom waking up to bagpipes would be downright nightmarish. not so with me! i instantly bolted up, loudly exclaiming "no fucking way!!!" and raced to my gorgeous deck. below me stood hundreds of people waiting to start a parade. at my doorstep!! under my smiling gaze, the marching bands and stepdancers and irish wolfhounds and leprechauns unfurled in the throng-lined streets.
i felt like a queen, entertained by loving and loyal admirers. and i loved them right back.
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