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?
Get your copy today.
FAFFY’S NEW JOB.
Bejasus!
Interview with Stan Rogers
*****
What’s the story behind your latest book?
Published 2014-02-06.
Buy it now.Don’t forget. Faffy is available as a $0.99 ebook download in all formats. Click Faffy’s picture to visit the site.
Buy it now.
First of all thanks to all the people that have been viewing my blog. My hits have rocketed recently and it’s mostly due to my little friend Faffy the Leprechaun. What started as just a little bit of fun has turned into an avalanche of readers.
And so I have decided to launch Faffy as an eBook. He has been tidied up a little and expanded also. It is still only a short novelette but well worth the price.I set the price at the absolute minimum that the publisher would allow barring making it free. It is launching at the incredibly low price of only $0.99 … begorrah.
Here’s the blurb for the story:-
Imagine turning up for work one day to find the place in chaos. Deliveries have gone to the wrong addresses for no apparent reason. It has to be sorted out … and quickly. You need help and you need it fast but it comes from an unexpected quarter. Enter Faffy the Leprechaun and his helpers including a Zombie from Yorkshire and various other strange characters.Can it be done even with the help of Faffy’s poteen?
I am also launching Faffy as a print version. It is done but I am awaiting the first book to arrive from the publishers so I can check it for errors before releasing it. It will be a bit more expensive at around the $6.00 but still well worth it.
So people go get your $0.99 ebook today. It is available in all flavours (Kindle,Apple,Nook,PDF, etc etc).and prepare to be shilelaghed by Faffy.
In case you were wondering… a shilelagh.
Faffy the Leprechaun is available at Smashwords. Click here to be taken to the site.
FAFFY’S NEW JOB.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!
Bejasus! Faffy has been expanded and is now available as an ebook here. Only 99 cents too. Begorrah!
FAFFY’S NEW JOB.
Just another Monday thought Ben.
The drive into work had been slow but the sun had been shining at least and he grimaced as he parked his car in the works car park before entering the building.
Anglo-Irish Document Clearing Centre welcomed him. Same people, same work stuffing papers into envelopes or rather directing other people to stuff papers into envelopes now he had moved up the ladder a bit.
Ben grabbed a coffee and scratched his arse with his free hand as he made his way to his department to get started.
It was quiet as he seemed to be the first one in. He settled down at his desk to catch up with his emails and savour the works canteen’s machine coffee. Yuck, he thought. Tastes like mud with a bit of caffeine in it.
“Top of the morning to ya Mr Ben.”
Ben looked around dis-concertedly. He had definitely heard the voice but he couldn’t tell where it had come from.
“Oi am here.” Said the same voice full of Irish brogue, almost a sing song.
The voice seemed to be coming from in front of his desk. Suddenly two perfect smoke rings floated up in front of him followed by a small cough.
Raising himself from his chair quickly Ben peered over his desk. The owner of the voice was revealed. A small guy was sitting cross-legged on a small stack of stuffed envelopes puffing on a small long stemmed pipe. He was dressed in a green shirt and matching trousers covered in a brown leather waistcoat. He wore a green hat and his face was half hidden in a large bushy red beard. He winked at Ben and blew another smoke ring.
Ben was temporarily speechless but eventually spluttered “Whathefeck?”
“Me name is Faffy Mr Ben and oi am your new personal assistant.”
With that Faffy stood up and reached out his hand.
“Pleased ter meet ya soor.”
“What….the….feck? spluttered Ben again but slower this time as he unconsciously shook Faffy’s hand to shake it.
“ Ahh Mr Ben oi see yer have some of that noxious coffee stuff there. That’ll do ya no good at all at all bejasus. You’ll be in need of a little of me poteen to liven it up a bit. Faffy pronounced this as pocheen.
Before Ben could react Faffy whipped out a small flask from his pocket and poured a large slug into the coffee.
“There ya go Mr Ben. Troi dat. It slips down a treat.”
Ben was still totally nonplussed but he managed to say. “I can’t drink in works time. It’s not allowed.”
“ For sure, for sure Mr Ben but I’ll tell no-one if you don’t.” Faffy chuckled.
Ben had started to come to his senses by now.
“New personal assistant? I didn’t know I was getting a new personal assistant? What is a ‘personal assistant’ anyway?”
“Well that’ll be me soor in this case. What time do we start?”
Ben needed to think about this and took a large gulp of his coffee.
And wished he hadn’t. He’d forgotten Faffy’s addition to it.
It felt like he had swallowed the acidic contents of a car battery…. Lead as well!
“What thefeck?” he shouted returning to an old theme again. He was sure that flames were about to be exhaled instead of breath.
Faffy looked concerned. “Er Mr Ben. You sure have turned a funny colour bejasus. And why are speaking in such a high pitched shout?”
“Water…..water for Christ’s sake.” Screamed Ben as he rushed out to the works toilet closely pursued by Faffy and a cloud of pipe smoke.
Ben spent a minute bent over gulping water urgently directly from the tap. As he straightened up spots appeared before his eyes distracting at least from the burning pain in his throat.
Ben looked worried. “Am I on fire Faffy? I smell burning.”
“Oi don’t tink so sorr. Don’t worry it’ll only be me pipe.”
“Faffy.Listen. Ben coughed…well no actually it was more of a hack than a cough. “You cannot smoke here or drink alcohol. It is against the rules.”
“Ah rules Mr Ben.” Faffy pondered as he took another puff of his pipe. This time he blew a square smoke ring.
“Yes. Rules Faffy.” wheezed Ben authoritatively .
“Would you like a wee drop more poteen Mr Ben? Only you look a bit peaky?”
Ben backed away defensively while emphatically shaking his head.
“You know what they say about rules Mr Ben?” grinned Faffy. Rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men. And I hope in our case we can consider ourselves wise.”
Ben shook his head in frustration and walked gingerly back to his desk with Faffy following. Halfway back he stopped and turned.
“Faffy, if I didn’t know better I’d say you look an awful lot like a leprechaun.”
Faffy chuckled.
“Well there is a reason for that Mr Ben.”
“And that reason would be?” asked Ben
“I am in fact … a leprechaun.” Grinned Faffy. “And by the way what time is tea break in here.?
Ben groaned.
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
TO BE CONTINUED….
- - - - - - - - - -
Tweet !function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src=p+'://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js';fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs');
Stan M Rogers 