Primal Sneeze

I arrived home that January night tired and hungry – hungry like the wolf. It was dark and frosty – frosty like the snowman. As I bent down to lift the bolt on the gate my glasses dropped off. Toby, then only a puppy, a puppy with magpie tendencies, scooped them up and scampered off.

The discomfort of having had a size nine rammed up his arse dissipated quickly, and the dog was delighted with all the excitement and rummaged about with me. But our torch-light search proved fruitless. Fruitless like the butcher’s.

Obviously he had continued looking long after I had given up and the next morning I found them in his kennel. Chewed to bits. Nothing but a few shards of glass and mangled metal remained. Another size nine up the arse, then I rang the optician. No problem, Primal, come in immediately. You’re nearly due for a check-up anyway and shur your PRSI will cover some of the cost. I was glad of the last bit as money was tight.

The optician took pictures of what was left of my glasses to show her friends. No messing. She reckoned an 18-wheeler wouldn’t have caused such damage. I made a mental note to buy a pair of pointed size nines.

I got new specs a couple of days later and was told to expect the refund cheque from the social insurance in one week.

As I said, money was tight, and six days later I withdrew cash for emergency supplies. I don’t remember for what. Probably some beer, a book and some beer. No problem I reckoned. I’d have the cheque the next day and lodge it before the direct debit for my phone bill hit.

No cheque arrived. I called the optician. My cheque had gone up in flames when a post office truck caught fire. How unlucky is that? If I fell into a barrel of tits I’d come out sucking my thumb. They told me not to worry – a new cheque had already been sent. But I was worried – the phone bill. I checked my account and found I was shy just €4.90.

I jumped in the car and rushed to the bank. It was drizzling and I pulled a baseball cap down to keep my new glasses dry. These were never to be damaged. Despite being wet and grumpy I managed to be polite and held the door open for the guy coming in behind me. We chatted about the weather and how busy the bank was while in the queue. At the counter I produced a €5 note and my card. The teller was jumpy and fidgety. Obviously having a bad day and I was making it worse wasting his time with a measly fiver.

But I held my composure and even held the door for someone on the way out. I was really polite. The dog was even spared another bout of size nine when I got home.

That afternoon there was a loud knock on the door. I looked out the window and there was a cop car at the gate. I opened the door to Mark, one of the local Gardaí. Howya, Primal. Bit of excitement today, eh. You weren’t scared were ya? Excitement me arse. A pure hoor of a day. What are ya on about?

The guy I held the door for at the bank and chatted to in the queue had moved to the foreign exchange counter while I was being served. He produced a replica gun and was handed over €4,000. The teller I dealt with had seen him and hit the panic button. Hence, his edginess.

Leaving the bank, apparently I held the door for the robber again and left with him. We had even crossed the street together where I got into my car and he stole another.

The Gardaí ran the CCTV footage and you can imagine what they concluded: Two guys enter the bank together. One with his collar pulled up and a baseball cap down over his eyes. The other with sunglasses. Both join the queue and chat away to each other. One leaves that queue and produces a weapon. The other does a token transaction. Then both leave together.

I was the accomplice in their mind. That I’d done a transaction on my own account didn’t mean anything. I could have used a stolen card. So I had been the subject of a manhunt.

Mark was able to tell me I’d stopped on the way home to buy a paper and that I’d pulled in another time to talk with a woman. There were two plain-clothes lads following me but hadn’t approached in case I too was armed. They planned to stop me on a quiet stretch of road. Luckily I was ruled out of the investigation before that happened.

I had a great laugh about it with Mark while making my statement. I couldn’t wait to tell all my mates. But that I wouldn’t have to do. The TV stations showed the video footage on every fekin bulletin that day. Without my face blanked out. Crimecall did the same for two weeks in a row. I couldn’t walk into a house, shop or pub for weeks after without everyone putting their hands up. The dog took to keeping his arse to the wall.

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