Companions of the Park

Two old men sitting on a park bench

The hissing chuckle filled the space between the maple leaves. Glowing in the evening sun, the falling foliage waltzed in oranges and reds. “Ghaha, where do you come up with th’s st’ff O’reilly?” The peacoat wrapped elder farted and wheezed, paisley covered hands shaking with mirth.

“ ‘M telling you you! It all makes sense! If the government is covering up Area 51 then there’s defin’tly something to ’t!”

The dapper man scowled irritably, “Jones you old coot, my argument is sound.”

The man had both hands firmly wrapped around a simple cane. His ramrod straight spine conflicting with the awkward angle of his right leg. “Sure, O’Reilly sure, cause an ‘ld democrat like me is a sceptic wh’le an old war snitch is whispering conspiracies. You’ve ‘nly got a leg an a half fer Christ's sake!” The farting elder waved his hands through the air to aid the evening breeze. Chuckling the elder went on, “There’s nothing special about this park O’Reilly. We old coots are the on’y ones with the time to sit and wonder about this anyway.”

The heavy perfume of lavender wafted over the two. The breeze softly filling the silence. “Still, it really does make me wonder.” O’Reilly winced slightly while shifting his leg. “I’ve seen some strange wondrous things in my time. Carriages that fly, animals the size of houses, why this one cracked fellow claims that you could circumvent the world in just 80 days.”

“Ghaha! Around the world in barely a d’zen weeks! You’re right old chap, he is cracked poor fellow!”

Ignoring his snickering gaseous companion, the dapper O’Reilly sighed; “I’m not so sure anymore you old bugger. Well good day.” Setting his round cap straight he stood, his posture erect he limped away.

Jones watched his erstwhile companion move away, tipping his round cap at a passing matron. The elder’s hands no longer shook, “be careful my ‘ld friend, there still be deep waters left in th’s ‘ld world.”