An Early Childhood Chapter 26 Part 2

An Early Childhood Chapter 26 Part 2: A Visit to Middlesex

An Early Childhood by Paddy Flanagan is a mock surreal autobiography, narrated by a fictional Irish war hero, champion bodhran player, and television presenter. Its first chapter is here. It parodies misery memoirs (such as Angela’s Ashes by the late great Frank McCourt), as well as time travel adventure, pop culture, and literature of various kinds.

Continued from Chapter 26 Part 1.
                Outside of the jazz club, didn't I only see a consumptive little fella, with a bad skin ailment as he spent all his time out of doors. He was a scruffy ruffian of a thing, coughing and wiping his scrabby, scabby face and hands. He had a little tray in front of himself, with matches and cigarettes for sale. He looked at me and coughtered.
                My heart went out to the little chappy, and I had some ointment for his condition in my pocket, as it was an ailment known to many Irish children who lived rough on the streets or in the Dublin tenements.
               "Here," says I, taking out the little tube of cream. "I see that you're doing a lot of scratching there, coz of your eczematic acnoids!" I handed him the tube of Gallaghadery's Skin tincture for revivifying contusions.
               "That I am, guvnor!" said the little orphan boy.
               "Put some of that on yer face and hands and you'll be right as rain. We have kids in Ireland with your condition - they're the Irkskin Childers."
               The child started to rub the ointment into his face and hands, and I left him to it.
                I entered into the jazz club where I’d been told by Eaglekins that Dyll worked. It was eleven pm if it was a day, and there was a beautiful young woman – looking not unlike the American Sweetheart and movie star Mary Pickford.

               Dylly was nowhere to be seen, but I watched this wonderful young lady try to sing along to the jazz band which was backing her. In all honesty, she was struggling a little, as the jazz band appeared to be keen on improvisation.

                “Stop doing scat!” she finally roared at the half dozen gentlemen behind her.

                “Hey, gorgeous chickaboo! Ain’t you had your nuts, nougat and caramel bar yet?” asked the drummer.

                “No I have not!” screamed the Mary Pickford lookalike.

                The drummer reached down behind the bass drum and threw her a bar of chocolate.

                “Why should I eat this?” she roared, catching it, and tearing a chunk out of it with her teeth nevertheless.

                “Because - chickaboo - everyone knows you turn into a right diva when you’re hungry,” the drummer said.

                As the singer bit into the chocolate, suddenly I saw that it was – in fact – Dylly Oblong – the very girl I had been seeking out! The transformation was incredible.

Continued in Chapter 26 Part 3.