Don’t forget to download my expanded Faffy the Leprechaun eBook. Its available here and it comes in all formats. And the best deal is…… IT IS ONLY 99 cents. What more could you want for St Patrick’s Day?
Q&A’s from Smashwords.
Interview with Stan Rogers
2) Jack Kerouac’s On The Road. Great characters and gritty writing.
3) Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure. Fantastic story. Very allegorical as is the Title. Such beautiful description of the times and landscapes. Everyone should read at least one Thomas Hardy book.
4) Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’urbervilles, for the same reasons as above.
5) Finally Isaac Asimov’s Foundation trilogy. Fantastic science fiction from the writer of I, Robot.
What’s the story behind your latest book?
Don’t forget. Faffy is available as a $0.99 ebook download in all formats. Click Faffy’s picture to visit the site.
Ben had to sit down. He thought. Then he thought again. How the hell was he going to tell his boss, Mad Mick, that bloody Santa Claus was delivering their mail now? “Faffy!” he whimpered, holding out his mug. Faffy obliged with a slug of poteen. “Don’t worry Mr Ben sorr. Santa has never let us down with deliveries before although no doubt a few people will be surproized to get mail down their chimneys sorr.”
As Ben took a slug he heard the sound of small explosions. “What the feck!” he cried, looking suspiciously at his coffee mug. “No sorr, it isn’t der coffee. It’s Robert (Not Bob) dealing with the Fook Up Faeries.” Said Faffy.
“Huh?” said Ben.
Ben and Faffy re-entered the warehouse. Ben’s nose prickled as it picked up the smell of … what was it he thought? Ahh yes, gunpowder. The place smelt like a bonfire night party after all the fireworks had been let off.
Robert (not Bob) ambled towards them. At least the smell of explosives masked the smell of zombie thought Ben.
“How are you doing Bob? Chuckled Faffy, it sounded loik you moight have found them?”
“Eeeeee baa gum I did Faffy and stubborn little buggas they was too. Over thirty of them there were. A reet battle it was but I think I got them all.” Robert turned towards Ben.
“ Does tha appen to have a stapler Mr Ben?”
Ben looked confused. “A stapler?”
“Yes lad, a stapler. Ah needs to fix me hand back on.”
Robert held out his hand. He literally held out his hand. It had come off. His other arm just smouldered slowly in the space where the hand should have been.
Ben shrieked and slowly backed away. “Don’t be a pansy lad, laughed Robert, just get me a stapler and it’ll be as good as new.”
Ben got the stapler. He looked away as Robert (not Bob) performed surgery.
“Eeee that’s better lad.” Smiled Robert waving his newly re-attached hand around.
Faffy re-appeared and proffered Robert (not Bob) a large mug of steaming tea and a hot currant bun. “Thanks lad, grinned Robert, food of the gods aye. Has it got …?”
Faffy interceded. “Yessir Robert. A triple measure of poteen and ten sugars. Just how ya loik it.”
Robert (not Bob) slurped contentedly and munched slowly on the bun. “Well lad, Robert looked at Ben, I’ve done my job here. Tha shouldn’t get any more trouble with those little pests again. Everything should be tickety-boo. I’ll just sup oop and I’ll be on my way back to hell.”
Ben grabbed Faffy and took him aside. “Err Faffy, he asked, is that right? Is Robert (not Bob) from hell?”
“To be sure he is Mr Ben sorr and it is a cold dismal place of no hope where poor souls live a life of misery. You know it as Huddersfield.”
Ben sighed and leaving Robert behind he and Faffy returned to the dispatch department. Ben cringed as he heard Mad Mick shouting for him.
“Ben! Ben? Where are ya fella? I need you.”
“I’m here Mick. Shouted Ben sounding happier than he felt.
“Well done young Ben. Smiled Mick. All the deliveries have arrived already although we’ve had a few reports of them dropping down chimneys. Which delivery service did you use?”
Ben swallowed and prepared to explain but Faffy jumped in quickly. “O’im glad you is pleased Mick. We used an old family business to deliver them. SDS is their name and although they can be a wee bit … how should oi say … unorthodox … they get der job done quickly.”
“Well fantastic news Mr … errr Faffy? Although Mr Smith in Devon was so shocked at the packages arrival down his chimney that he has now gone to a better place.”
Ben looked shocked. “You mean…”
“Yes Ben, continued Mad Mick, he has gone to the village pub. The Ferret and Firkin, I think it’s called where he is currently downing large rums and muttering something about reindeer?”
Faffy grinned. “Pay no heed sorr. Oi am sure he will be OK. Now if you are happy oi think oi’ll be on my way. Mrs Faffy will be wondering where oi am.”
Mad Mick agreed and returned to his office.
“Well Mr Ben sorr. Moi work here is done. Every ting seems to be running smoothly. Oi’ll be on me way. If youse needs us again just give us a call.”
Ben was speechless. He ran out through the warehouse. The DeVito’s had gone. Robert (not Bob) also had gone. He ran back into the dispatch department… Faffy had gone. The department seemed to have returned to normal. The Anglo-Irish document centre staff were working away normally preparing the next delivery.
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” Muttered Ben.
Ben slept well that night and awoke feeling refreshed. As he drove into work he thought back to the previous day. It all seemed a little vague now. Leprechauns? Zombies? The DeVito’s? Ha!
By the time he arrived at work he was convinced it had all been a dream and his suspicions were confirmed as he entered the Anglo-Irish Document Clearing Centre. All was as normal. His staff were chatting idly as they enjoyed a last swig of coffee before starting their days work.
He grabbed a quick coffee himself from the canteen and settled down at his desk to read his emails.
He sipped the coffee and was disappointed that as usual it tasted of mud with a hint of caffeine. He sat back in his chair and sighed. Just a dream. Oh well let’s start work. Lots to do. He thought sadly. He opened his desk drawer to find a pen. And grinned. Nestling in the drawer was a bottle. The label read. ‘Poteen’. He poured a large slug into his coffee.
THE END … possibly!
Faffy has been expanded and is now available as an ebook here. Only 99 cents too. Begorrah!
Mad Mick bustled into the department and grabbed Ben.
“We have to get as many of those packets out today… I mean NOW Ben… oh hello, who are you?”
Mick had spotted Faffy.
That’s Faffy Mick. He’s my new leprec….. I mean personal assistant.”
“Hmmmm.” said Mad Mick. “Bit small isn’t he?” Is he Mr O’Crumpet? The agency said he’d be here.”
“That oi am sorr. Faffy O’Crumpet. One of the County Kildare O’Crumpets, not to be confused with the Dublin O’Crumpets.
Mad Mick shrugged and turned again to Ben.
“I’ve just checked out back and there’s three bald guys zooming about chucking our packets about. What’s that all about Ben? You need to stop them mucking about and get them working.”
“All in hand boss.” Murmured Ben.
Just then Robert (not Bob) lumbered into view.
Mad Mick did a double take.
“Excuse me squire are you lost? The old people’s home is just down the road.”
Ben interrupted quickly.
“This is Robert Mick. He is a errrr…. Troubleshooter. He is helping us out.”
“Wow he pongs a bit. And should he have fungus growing on him?”
Robert grumbled louder.
“OK old timer. Keep your hair on. If you do a good job I’m happy. Aren’t we Ben?
“Well Bob. It was nice meeting you.” Said Mad Mick as he turned away towards the office.
Robert (not Bob) growled, his arms rose to shoulder level and he started to shamble after Mad Mick.
“NOOOOO.” Cried Faffy as he jumped in front of Robert. “He doesn’t know and he’s de boss.
Robert stopped. Grudgingly.
“Whatthefeck?” said Ben.
“He called him Bob Mr Ben. Robert hates being called Bob. If oi hadn’t have stopped him den Mr Mick moit have been missing his brains boi now.”
Robert growled again.
“Aye. Damned right he would although by t’ sound of the lummox it wouldn’t have been much of a snack lad. We have a name for people like him in Yorkshire.”
“What is it?” Said Ben.
“Soft southern twats.” Replied Robert.
Robert seemed placated and moved off to continue hunting Fuck up faeries.
Ben started laughing.
“Is your name really O’Crumpet Faffy?”
“It is Mr Ben and I’ll hear no bad words about my name if youse please sorr. Tis a very ancient and honourable Leprechaun name.”
“OK Faffy. Ben suppressed a giggle. We better check on those DeVito’s. We need those packets out as soon as we can although I can’t see it happening for a few days at least. I have to arrange the delivery pick up times with UPS.”
It was Faffy’s turn to suppress a laugh as he puffed on his pipe.
Green cubic smoke rings appeared.
They entered the back of the warehouse together.
It was empty. No DeVito’s … and just empty trollies which had previously been full.
“Omigod.” Cried Ben. “What happened? Where’s all the work gone?”
“It’s out back sorr.” Chortled Faffy. The DeVito’s are just loading it up for delivery. Youse won’t be needing dose UPS fellas after all.”
“Eek.” Said Ben.
“Tis OK sorr we are using our own delivery….erm … company.”
Ben rushed out of the rear loading door just in time to see his packets flying off into the air.
If that wasn’t strange enough they were flying off in a very large sled pulled by what seemed like a team of … horses? … nope they were bloody reindeer. He could just make out a man in red driving and faint cries of “Hohoho.” As his packets disappeared into the distance.
“Well he is cheaper and faster than UPS sorr. Oi thought we’d give him a chance.”
Ronald Smith sat in his two bed-roomed house in Devon.
He enjoyed sitting in his old but very comfortable armchair.
He sat drinking his tea time cup of hot chocolate and he wondered where his delivery had got too. He worked from home now that he had semi-retired to the West Country. He checked documents for the Anglo-Irish Document Clearing Centre to bring in a few extra quid. He didn’t need a lot but the checking job paid for the little luxuries of life.
Mr Biggles, his ancient black tom cat looked up from his bed by the unlit fire and meowed as Ronald dunked a hob nob in his hot choccy.
There was a whooshing sound followed by a loud bang. Mr Biggles jumped up and raced out of the door as a large grey plastic package dropped into the fireplace followed by a small cloud of soot.
Ronald Smith sat open mouthed in astonishment as the soggy hob nob fell into his mug mid dunk.
The deliveries had begun.
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
Ben had never seen a zombie before. Come to think of it he’d never seen a phantom or a leprechaun either and he watched open mouthed as Robert (not Bob) and Lonely Len approached.
“Ayup there mate. Where can a zombie get a cup of tea round here? The zombie asked Faffy.
Faffy disappeared to fetch one from the DeVito’s urn.
Robert (not Bob) smiled at Ben.
“Morning lad. Ah gather ya be havin’ a bit of trouble with Fook oop faeries. ‘appens I mart be able ta elp ya out.”
Ben’s mind turned over slowly.
“You’ll be from Yorkshire then Robert?”
“Ba gum ya be a bright one lad. I was born, raised and died there. God’s country lad. Now as soon as I’ve had me tea I’ll get cracking.”
Ben noticed a positive pong emanating from the Yorkshire zombie. Sort of an aroma of freshly turned damp soil. He looked about a hundred years old with a positive green tinge. He also wore a crumpled old tweed suit and deer stalker hat.
A bit like Sherlock Holmes really thought Ben, if Sherlock had been from Yorkshire … and dead.
Lonely Len was silent although Ben was sure he could hear him sniffing every few seconds. Can phantoms get colds he thought?
He also seemed to fade in and out of view a lot. Most of the time Ben could see right through him but he was a short man (sorry thought Ben … phantom) He had grey hair and wore black trousers with a white stained shirt.
Faffy returned with a large mug of steaming tea.
“Just how ya loik it Robert. Double measure of poteen, ten spoonfuls of sugar.”
Robert (not Bob) downed half of the mug in one go. Ben swore he could see steam coming from the zombie’s ears.
“Eeeeeeeeee ba gum that’s reet hit the spot lad.” He downed the rest and smiled.
Ben was surprised Robert (not Bob) didn’t spontaneously combust after his own earlier experience of Faffy’s poteen but the zombie seemed to positively grow. Even the green tinge seemed to recede a bit.
“Right lad I’m ready. Let t’ dog see t’ rabbit and I’ll get started.”
“Lonely Len will show youse around Robert. Oi’ll let ya get on with it.”
“We’ll that’s an experience oi’ll, I mean I’ll never forget said Ben to Faffy.”
“Aye sorr. And don’t worry. They will sort out our problems. Would ya loik ta see how the De Vito’s are doing out back?”
“OK Faffy but get me a coffee first and I mean coffee, just coffee. None of your additives please this time.”
Faffy returned in the blink of an eye with Frank DeVito’s mug again filled with steaming coffee. Ben sniffed it warily first then took a tiny sip. It seemed fine. In fact it was delicious. Ben smiled.
“Oi hope ya loik it sorr. Tis my own brew. Better than dat machine jollop. Oi wouldn’t polish moi shillelagh with dat muck Mr Ben.”
Ben smiled again. The coffee really was rather special.
“What is a shillelagh anyway?” he thought to himself.
Faffy led Ben to the rear of the warehouse. He briefly caught a glimpse of Robert (not Bob) crawling about under some shelving.
They entered the rear part of the warehouse and Ben’s jaw dropped in amazement. The DeVito’s rushed about in what looked like random chaos. Ben ducked as large envelope wallet flew through the air just missing his head. One DeVito would grab a packet and throw it to another DeVito who in a flash opened it and in a blur shuffled through it. He then threw it to the third DeVito who resealed it and stacked it neatly on a trolley. There were three trolleys already finished and counted.
“For fecks sake Faffy. Are they doing it properly? It needs to be done properly.”
“Check for yourself Mr Ben.” Grinned Faffy with a twinkle in his eye.
Ben rushed over to one of the finished trolleys and pulled a few samples off. He opened each one and checked it carefully. They were perfect. All perfect. Each envelope’s address matched the contents. Faffy resealed them and placed them back on the trolley.
Ben sighed and held out his mug.
Faffy poured the poteen in.
“Funny, thought Ben as he sipped it with no little trepidation, this stuff actually is not too bad when you get used to it.”
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Ben sat down. Everything was just too confusing. What had started as a normal boring Monday at work at ended up in insanity. He now had a leprechaun as an assistant, three crazy bald brothers who didn’t know which one was who and a dead man who he hadn’t met working in his department.
And now he had a zombie coming in to sort out his problems which were supposedly caused by Fuck Up Faeries. He groaned and rested his head in his hands. He had a headache. Every time the DeVito brothers marched by the glare of the lights reflected off of their heads causing him to screw up his eyes. He winced again as Faffy turned up in front of him.
“Mr Ben sorr. Are you feeling OK? Can I get you a coffee?
Ben groaned again as Faffy blew a triangular smoke ring from his pipe. This time it was pink. Ben groaned again and shook his head.
“Oi’ll take dat as a yes sorr.” Smiled Faffy.
In what seemed like seconds Faffy re-appeared with a mug of coffee. It had Frank stencilled on it.
“Is this Frank DeVito’s mug? Glared Ben.
“Well strictly speaking yes sorr but seeing as he doesn’t know he’s here today youse can use it sorr.”
Ben went to take a sip but just before the coffee touched his lips he remembered the last one and stopped.
Putting it down he looked at Faffy questioningly.
“It hasn’t got the same stuff in it as earlier has it Faffy?”
“No sorr Mr Ben. Oi promise you it hasn’t.”
Ben looked re-assured and took a gulp. He needed coffee.
Five minutes later when Ben returned from the toilet still gagging after drinking what seemed like a gallon of water to quell the burning in his throat he grabbed Faffy.
“Faffy you little shite. You promised me it didn’t have the same stuff in it.” He gasped.
“Sorr It didn’t, squealed Faffy, dat was different stuff!”
“Hmmm.” Said Ben. But you said….”
Ben decided not to pursue it.
“Oi have arranged for all that work that has been returned sorr to be put in the back of da warehouse so the DeVito’s can sort it out Mr Ben.” Said Faffy placatingly. “They’ll work better on dere own sorr.”
“But there’s over a weeks worth Faffy. It will take them ages on their own.”
“Well we better get dem started toot sweet Mr Ben. Oi have arranged a tea urn for them down there so they won’t need to stop.”
Ben was about to ask if the urn would have poteen in it too but decided he didn’t want to know.
“OK Faffy get those DeVito’s working. Let’s see what they can do.”
Faffy called the DeVito’s over and explained to them what needed doing.
Ben thought for a moment.
“Faffy why don’t I get tee shirts made up with their names printed on them? Then they’d know and we’d know which one was which.”
“Not a good oidea Mr Ben.”
Why not Faffy. Seems perfectly logical to me?”
“Well sorr no it has been tried. They just stand around arguing because they have de wrong shirts on.”
“Hmmm.” Said Ben. “I suppose logic doesn’t loom too large in the DeVito’s lives then Faffy.”
“You have hit de nail on de proverbial head dere Mr Ben. It doesn’t even glimpse daylight dere at all at all.”
Faffy glanced towards the door.
“Aha sorr. Here comes Robert (not Bob).
Ben looked over and saw a tall thin man walking in apparently talking to himself.
“It’s OK Mr Ben he is talking to Lonely Len the Phantom. Getting the lowdown as it were.”
“But…but..but… I can’t see him? Cried Ben.
“Bejasus sorr oi forgot. Here. Try a sip of this. Oi promise you it’s as soft and sweet as Mrs Faffy’s kisses.”
Ben eyed the small phial that Faffy offered him suspiciously.”
“Just troi it sorr.”
Ben sniffed it. It smelled sweet. Almost like musk perfume. He tried a sip.
Nothing happened. Ben sighed. Then realized he could see a hazy form beside Robert (not Bob)
“Meet Lonely Len.” Laughed Faffy. And of course not to forget Mr Robert (not Bob) too. He is the one with the slightly green tinge sorr.
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Mad Mick grabbed Ben’s arm and led him towards the office.
“Ben we have a crisis. All the documents we sent out are coming back from last week. Apparently the contents don’t match the addresses amongst other things. We need help. I’m getting on to Elect Recruitment for some more temporaries. All hands on deck Ben.”
Ben never had a chance to get a word in before Mad Mick was off still muttering to himself on the way to the in house recruitment people. Faffy seemed to have disappeared too.
Ben re-entered the dispatch department. And stopped.
He hardly recognized the place. It was spotless. Boxes were put away on shelves. Bench tops were clear and the floor was spotless. The DeVito brothers were sitting down drinking coffee.
“Was this down to you …errrm DeVito’s?” queried Ben.
“Arrrrr. Yes it was Maister Ben.” They replied in unison.
Most of the usual workers were in by now too and they joined Ben in his amazement.
“Mr Ben sorr.” Faffy was back. “Oi have been doing me personal assisting while ya were away with Mad Mick.”
“Ermmm OK Faffy and?”
“We have a few problems to be sure Mr Ben. I heard what Mad Mick said and oi have been checking a few details with a friend here.”
“You have a friend here?” asked Ben
“Woy yes sorr I do and there is very little that gets by Len without him noticing it.
“I have never seen any Len’s around here Faffy.” Replied Ben.
“Dat is entoirely understandable sorr. Len Lonely knows this place inside and out but he is unfortunately dead sorr. Has been for a few years now.”
“Dead?” Ben stuttered. “ How can someone be dead and yet still be here?”
“Very easy for Lonely Len sorr. He has always been here, man, boy and phantom. Even when the firm moved from the old premises Len travelled along as part of de foinature as it were. He doesn’t miss much what goes down here and he knows what is causing the problems Mr Ben.”
“Omigod Faffy. He does? What is it?”
Faffy hesitated and cleared his throat.
“Oi am sorry to tell you Mr Ben but Len thinks we have an infestation.”
“Infestation Faffy? Infestation of what? Rats? Mice? Cockroaches?”
“None of dose sorr. Dey would be easy. We have an infestation of Fuck Up Faeries and there’s only one way to contain it.”
Ben was dumbfounded but said in anguish … “What can we do Faffy?”
“We need to call in a specialist in dese matters Mr Ben. Oi have already got the best in the field on his way here now. We need Robert (not Bob) the Zombie.”
“Insanity!” laughed Ben insanely.
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
TO BE CONTINUED ….