Category Archives: Short Stories

St. Patrick’s Green and Gold

©2015 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee [caption id="attachment_1247" align="aligncenter" width="800"]The luck of the Irish, a 4-leafed clover Here's a  4-Leaf Clover for Luck on St. Patrick's Day[/caption]

Once again here at Incoming Bytes   'tis the day of the green and gold, too, is it not?  

  St. Patrick's Day— the day of green. Green shirts and green ties;  green hats and green eyes; green ribbons, green dress of all kinds, with fashionable green accessories. St. Patrick's Day commemorates the chasing of snakes and the fine art of parading other such rascals out of Ireland; livening everything green  including bright green beer, green cookies, green eggs and  ham, green Leprechauns, oh, by now, —faith and begorrah!... you are probably getting the idea if you are seeing green clouds and green ducks and green chickens. It is a fine green and gold day is it not? Yes, gold also.  Gold. Yes. Wee pots of gold, hidden from the sight of snoopy treasure-seeking humans trundling about  in the greens of the forest glen by Leprechauns, the wee people. A treasure gold is, so what more could we ask?  Why, beautiful, smiling  Irish girls with green eyes, of course, and as an aside, I have never met an Irish girl I didn't like. No matter;  intriguing  Irish stories of green and gold from that legendary green island inevitably surface in spring; there are certainly pots of gold to be found if you are fast enough to  spot a wee Leprechaun hiding his pot of gold and catch the speedy little man by the heel. Look sharp.  Beware, he will escape in a flash... So to a story now, it being  just for the Irish—and anyone who has ever wished to be Irish, loves someone  Irish, knows a sweet  Irish poet, listens to enchanting Irish music —or perhaps just likes green beer. Gather 'round the green...Happy St. Patrick's day to all...  

Green and Gold

© 2011  by Raymond Alexander Kukkee

Orchyd,  the chief  leprechaun,  tapped on the great wooden door of the sleeping chamber.  “Wake up,  wake up “  He tapped loudly and blew on his golden trumpet.  Not a sound but snoring was heard from within.

Wake up, young leprechauns, the snow is melted!   ” ‘Tis  spring,  the awakening of the green! There are great tasks to be completed! more

Is that Incoming I hear?
Posted in Civilization, Crafts and skills, Humanity, Life, Short Stories, Uncategorized, Yard & Garden | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

King Henry and the Box

© 2010  Raymond Alexander Kukkee 744px-Jacob_Jordaens_-_The_Feast_of_the_Bean_King_-_Google_Art_Project It is time for civilized society in North America to recognize where priorities should be placed.  Poverty in the United States and Canada is systemic and pervasive, with homelessness and poverty at an all time high,  while our leaders spend hundreds of billions on warfare, grandiose projects of ego, destruction of the environment, horrific waste, and luxury.  Fact is, if history is any  teacher,  the blatant abuse of power,  arrogant self-entitlement and privilege  in any political system is the ultimate cause of the  failure of that system, whatever it may be. Ideology itself is no longer enough to maintain civilization. To believe otherwise is to live in delusion,  as fascinating as it may be, exempt from reality.  The surreal attitude of contempt expressed by the privileged and powerful  for average people, the environment, and the world around us  is unacceptable.  That concept  reminded me of  my old short story-which applies universally and to all seasons.   The Feast The massive oak door to the Great Hall was opened for him by a smiling servant. “Good Day, and welcome, King Henry”. “ 'Tis a good day for the Great Fest” he said, pausing. “The North wind doth carry a sorry chill, this day”. “Yes, your Majesty”. The doorman nodded and waved King Henry through the door into the warm room. The group at the head table in the Great Hall spotted the king simultaneously and stood, merrily raised their glasses, and said, almost in unison, “Hail, King Henry!” then laughed. He saluted them and sat down with them. The banquet tables were loaded with pastry, buns, breads of all kinds, and fruit. Apples, oranges, and even grapes. ‘Not bad for the cold season’ he thought to himself. “Every morsel of food must be imported into my kingdom” he muttered. The servant poured coffee and loaded his golden plate with great slices of turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, assorted vegetables, and jewels. Red jewels. “Cranberries are jewels” he said out loud, and tasted one. He ate them all quickly. “My kingdom for some more jewels!” he thundered. “More jewels!” he said to the servant. The smiling, pleasant young woman placed more red jewels upon his plate, and some green ones. “Peas are emeralds” he said to her, “ a treasure unto themselves”. She laughed. The cranberries were tangy when he chewed them. “Pour the golden Elixir” he said, pointing at his mashed potatoes. “Fill the lake” he said, forming a depression in the potatoes. “‘Tis a royal  lake, is it not?” He carefully sliced off a piece of white meat and carefully dipped it into the gravy. “Tis a fine little lake, and we are pleased, this bird has been roasted to perfection by our fine chef.” The girl smiled again. “Yes Sire. Would you like some more cranberries, King Henry?” “Yes” he said abruptly. “A king can never have enough jewels, can you not see that?” “I have to get some more” she said, backing away, and bowing graciously. He waved her off and concentrated on the roasted bird. It was delicious. “And how be the kingdom today, King Henry?” the wizened man at the end of the table asked. “ ‘Tis well you be looking” he said. “Is the drawbridge at the castle working properly?” King Henry jammed the last piece of turkey in his mouth to avoid speaking. He gulped down the mashed potatoes and gravy and stood up abruptly. “Kings tarry not long with common folk” he said loudly, and turned from the table, as everyone in the Great Hall stopped chattering. There was silence. Just before he got to the door, he turned, and bowed, and said “Good Christmas to   all! Enjoy!” The doorman nodded to him. “Good day, King Henry”. King Henry pulled his collar up tightly, walking into the cold northerly wind. He turned up Main Street and up Henry avenue toward the bridge. He climbed through a gap in the fence, following a worn path that led under the bridge. He crawled into his cardboard box. “Tis good to be home. Good Christmas to all” he muttered to himself, covering himself with newspapers. “Good Christmas to all”. ## © 2010 Raymond Alexander Kukkee Is that Incoming I hear?   Photo: Jacob Jordaens - The Feast of the Bean King      Wikimedia Commons
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