‘They say he’s got talons as sharp as butchers’ knives. Four on each foot, like. Great big fuckin’ half-moon claws.’
“What, like a hawk or somethin’?’
‘No, like an owl obviously, ya dope. He’s the owl man.’
‘Owl man? You’re jokin’?’
‘Would I lie to you? Did ya not just see him walkin’ by, like? Feathers stickin’ out the top of his head and all?’
‘Yeah, buh-’
‘Have ya never seen him around before? He’s sort of a… a… an urban legend… only he’s real, like, and he walks about as if he’s normal as any of us.’
‘Yeah but that was just a lad in a costume. That was just someone dressed like an owl.’
‘Tell me this: why would someone wantin’ to dress up like an owl wear a shirt and tie, eh? Why, if someone was so inclined, would they go to all the trouble of cakin’ on the makeup and fake feathers if they were just gonna cover it all up with a three piece fuckin’ suit? Answer me that… ya spastic.’
‘I dunno… maybe he’s just a mentaller?’
‘Oh he is, don’t you worry about that. Mental to the core, so they say. But that’s no costume, boyo. That man’s a walkin’ piece’a scientific history, a genetic nightmare, a fuckin’ abomination, if ya will. Half man, half owl, mark my words.’
‘Buh… how?’
‘Nobody really knows for sure. Some people say it was experiments though, some mad lad up in the Wicklow Mountains choppin’ up animals and stickin’ them onto people’s heads.’
‘Ah go ‘way.’
‘They say there were hundreds of them up there. Badger men, deer men, mole men… even a few fish men swimmin’ around up in Turlough Hill. He kept them in these big underground cages, they say. But he couldn’t keep our owl man locked up for long. Come feedin’ time, Mr. Mad Scientist comes around one night with a bucket full’a mice, starts throwin’ them in, one by one. Owl man jumps up, all coy like, pickin’ at them as if he doesn’t even know where they’re comin’ from… And then BAM, he whacks yer man in the eyes with one of them claws-
‘Talons.’
‘Yeah, talons. BAM, slices his head right open through the bars, grabs the keys out of his pocket, and then - the mad bastard - only goes and eats him.’
‘Who? The scientist?’
‘Every last scrap. They found the bones coughed up somewhere in the Sally gap. They even had the regurgitated white coat and everythin’.’
‘Jaysus.’
‘That’s where he got the bloodlust from, they say. Nothin’ but human meat can satisfy him now.’
‘Holy god… Would they not arrest him or somethin’?’
‘That’s the thing. He’s not strictly a person, see. Can’t put him in the joy ‘cus he’s too much owl, can’t put him in the pound ‘cus he’s too much man. Lives on the borders, ontologically speakin’.’
‘Ya wha’?’
‘It’s a loophole, Anthony. The law hasn’t a clue what he is, so they can’t do a fuckin’ thing to him. He’s an anomaly, they say. They prefer to pretend he doesn’t exist.’
‘So he’s just out there eatin’ people, and they-
‘Kids mostly. He’s a got a fierce hunger for the young ones.’
‘For fuck’s sake…so… so he’s just out there eatin’ up poor little kids left, right and centre, and they don’t give a fuck, like?’
‘Turn a blind eye, so to speak.’
‘… Fuckin’ disgrace.’
‘‘Course there’s others’d say that’s all a load’a shite, that it was some freak accident, some dope of a lab assistant mixin’ up test tube babies and owl embryos or somethin’. They’d have ya believe he’s harmless, that he was raised by a pair of crusties and taught to control his urges. They’d tell ya that he only eats mice, that he buys them by the box load and keeps them in a freezer out the back. They might even feed ya some shite about a kindly soul, a poor lonely man trapped in a deformed body, stuck between animal and human… Fuckin’ bleedin’ hearts, if ya ask me.’
‘Too fuckin’ right, Josey.’
‘Joseph! Me name’s Joseph, alrigh’?’
‘Sorry… Joseph. Too fuckin’ right, Joseph.’
‘Gerrih righ’.’
‘Sorry… sorry.’
‘…’
‘Joseph?’
‘…’
‘Joseph?’
‘Huh, wha?’
‘Would he ever… would he ever… y’know…’
‘Spirrih ou’.’
‘I’m just… would he ever attack us, Josey?’
‘Ya wha’?’
‘Joseph, J-Joseph… I mean, would he ever attack the likes of us, Joseph?’
‘Why would he do a thing like that?’
‘Well, ya know, we’re out here most days… most nights too I suppose… What if he got hungry or somethin’?’
‘I told ya, he only goes for the kids.’
‘But what if… what if he couldn’t find one, ya know? What if he comes outta the library late, and, and he had to skip lunch or somethin’, and we’re there sleepin’ on the steps… So he thinks to himself, “no one’ll miss these two, no one’ll give a shite,” and then he, he…’
‘Holy God.’
‘Wha’?’
‘…You’re righ’.’
‘… I am?’
‘Fuckin’ freak’s probably been planning it for months.’
‘…he has?’
‘Just waitin’ for his chance to strike, so he is. Just hopin’ for the day he’s the last one out the door and Kildare street’s the home’a the tumblin’ fuckin’ tumbleweed.’
‘… the wha’?’
‘Deserted, Anthony. Depopulated by all but us two poor souls.’
‘Buh… but what about your man outside the Dáil? The Guard? He’s there 24 hours, like’
‘Ya think he gives a shite about 2 lads sleepin’ rough? Ya think he’d bat an eyelid if he saw the likes of us gettin’ devoured by some half-man-half-beast in the wee hours of an evenin’? ‘Cus ya can think again, Anthony… ya can think again.’
‘…suppose you’re righ’.’
‘… ya can think again.’
‘Joseph?’
‘…mark my words.’
‘Joseph?’
‘Wha’?’
‘…wha’ are we gonna do?’
