Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha by Roddy Doyle

into some water to ease the pain. He got red blisters all over his feet; the water was boiling but his feet were numb. He knew he had leprosy.—I can’t bear to tell you but it’s true, said the doctor sadly. But Father Damien didn’t mind.—I have leprosy, he said.—Blessed be the Good God!
    —Blessed be the Good God, I said.
    My da started laughing.
    —Where did you get that from? he said.
    —I read it, I told him.—Father Damien said it.
    —Which one’s he?
    —Father Damien and the lepers.
    —Oh, that’s right. He was a good man.
    —Were there ever any lepers in Ireland?
    —I don’t think so.
    —Why not?
    —It only happens in hot places. I think.
    —It’s hot here sometimes, I said.
    —Not that hot.
    —Yes it is.
    —Not hot enough, said my da.—It has to be very very hot.
    —How much hotter than here?
    —Fifteen degrees, said my da.
    There was no cure for leprosy. He didn’t tell his mother when he was writing to her. But the news got out. People sent money to Father Damien and he built another church with it. It was made of stone. The church is still standing and may be seen by travellers to Molokai today. Father Damien told his children that he was dying and that the nuns would take care of them from then on. They clung to his feet and said,—No, no, Kamiano! We want to stay as long as you are here. The nuns had to go back empty-handed.
    —Do it again.
    Sinbad grabbed my legs.
    —No, no, Kam—Kam -
    —Kamiano!
    —I can’t remember it.
    —Kamiano.
    —Can I not just say Patrick?
    —No, I said. Do it again and you’d better get it right.
    —I don’t want to.
    I gave him half a Chinese torture. He grabbed my legs.
    —Lower down.
    —How?
    —Lower.
    —You’ll kick me.
    —I won’t. I will if you don’t.
    Sinbad grabbed me around the ankles. He held me tight so my feet were stuck.
    —No, no, Kamiano! We want to stay as long you are here.
    —Okay, my children, I said.—You can stay.
    —Thanks very much, Kamiano, said Sinbad.
    He wouldn’t let go of my feet.
    Father Damien died on Palm Sunday. The people sat on the ground beating their breasts in old Hawaiian fashion, swaying back and forth and wailing sadly. The leprosy had gone off him; there were no scabs or anything. He was a saint. I read it twice.
    I needed lepers. Sinbad wasn’t enough. He kept running away. He told our ma that I was making him be a leper and he didn’t want to be one. So I needed lepers. I couldn’t tell Kevin because he’d have ended up being Father Damien and I’d have been a leper. It was my story. I got the McCarthy twins and Willy Hancock. They were four, the three of them. They thought it was great being with a big boy, me. I made them come into our back garden. I told them what lepers were. They wanted to be lepers.
    —Can lepers swim? said Willy Hancock.
    —Yeah, I said.
    —We can’t swim, said one of the McCarthys.
    —Lepers can swim, said Willy Hancock.
    —They don’t have to swim, I said.—You don’t have to swim. You only have to pretend you’re lepers. It’s easy. You just have to be a bit sick and wobble a bit.
    They wobbled.
    —Can they laugh?
    —Yeah, I said.—They only have to lie down sometimes so I can mop their brows and say prayers on them.
    —I’m a leper!
    —I’m a leper! Wobble wobble wobble!
    —Wobble wobble leper!
    —Wobble wobble leper!
    —Our Father who art in heaven hallowed by thy name—
    —Wobble wobble wobble!
    —Shut up a sec -
    —Wobble wobble wobble.
    They had to go home for their dinners. I heard them through the hedge on the path to their houses.
    —I’m a leper! Wobble wobble wobble!
    —I have a vocation, I told my ma, just in case Missis McCarthy came to the door about the twins, or Missis Hancock.
    She was still cooking the dinner and stopping Catherine from climbing into the press under the sink with the polish and brushes in it.
    —What’s that, Patrick?
    —I have a vocation, I said.
    She picked up Catherine.
    —Has someone