Old Derry

A Story by Deborah Dhue

An Irishman grows tired of being the town comedian and seeks the help of a deceitful pixie. He forgets the old saying "be careful what you wish for."

    There was not a man funnier in the highlands than Old Derry. No matter what he said, someone slapped their knee or hooted with laughter. When Old Derry would warn of the weather or tell of an accident, the people would uproar and just laugh, “Ol’ Derry’s at it again!”
    Old Derry finally grew tired of being the countryside clown, so he went and visited the most well-known pixie in all the land: William Wallace. William Wallace was infamous for his tricks and shams, and Old Derry went to the warrior’s cemetery to call on him.
    “William Wallace? Where ye be? I have some potatoes and white grass for smokin’.”
    “There was an Old Derry down Derry who loved to see little folks merry. So he made them a book and with laughter they shook at the fun of that Derry down Derry.” A deep voice sang out in a jaunty tune. Old Derry spun around and gasped.
    “Ye be William Wallace!”
    “That I am. Now, you spoke of white grass?” Old Derry nodded. “Hand it over, then we talk.”
    Old Derry held out the burlap sack, and William Wallace grabbed it hastily. He ate all four potatoes whole, then lit his pipe with his thumb. The orange glow of the pipe illuminated his sunken tired features.
    “Now, what do you want, Old Derry who loves to see little folks merry?”
    “I’m tired of people laughin’ at whatever I say!” Old Derry yelled. “By golly, I wanna see em all laugh themselves to the grave!”
    “That can be arranged.” William Wallace grinned.
    “Really?”
    “Of course.” William Wallace sneered, pulling a small black book out of thin air and handing it to Old Derry.
    “What’s this?” Old Derry questioned.
    “Oh, just my Little Black Book.” William Wallace laughed at his own joke. “Just tear a page out when you come across one of those morons. Give it to them, and you’ll get what you want.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Old Derry breathed. William Wallace waved in acknowledgement and walked through the gravestones, singing: “There was an Old Derry down Derry who loved to see little folks merry. So he made them a book and with laughter they shook at the fun of that Derry down Derry.”
    Old Derry watched him until he disappeared into the mist. He tightened his grip on the book and ran back to town. Every person he saw received a page: Audrey O’Donner, Johnny McIntire, the butcher Nigel, all of them. They read the pages and began to laugh. Old Derry was startled. He continued to watch them all. They laughed until their very bones shook and their skin melted off. This wasn’t what Old Derry had wanted.
    “No, stop laughin’! Ye gonna kill yerselves!”
    But they didn’t stop laughing until their skeletons collapsed into dust. As the wind blew and swept the remains of the highland people away, a voice echoed in Old Derry’s ear: “You wished they would laugh themselves to the grave. No exchanges or refunds.”

© 2017 Deborah Dhue

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JPDonelan

Well, that had a certain jovialness to it that played well against the dire results. Sometimes the way people see someone can make them seek to change that perception, either through self-alteration or the alteration of others; both can have terrible outcomes. Very nice. Found the dialogue particularly enjoyable.

That said, one point of concern. When Old Derry was handing out pages, am I correct to assume that all afflicted parties were within a close proximity? I am probably overthinking it on my end, but will still pose the query for the sake of clarity.

With a chance to think, I do have a question. What made you decide on the characters' names? I'm particularly interested in your choice of William Wallace for the pixie's name. Not judgmentally, mind you. Just a bit of a curiosity.

Overall, quite enjoyable.