|Dear everyone offended by the blatant Irish stereotyping: I'm half-Irish. Also, Casey is Irish, and he doesn't drink at all. Of course, he may be Satan. Moving right along...|
|Saturday, March 17, 2012|
|Panel 1: In
the title panel of this Sunday-style colour comic, Marie watches as
Casey runs away from a giant shamrock labelled "West of Bathurst by
Panel 2: Casey and Marie are sitting on Marie's futon. A phone jammed into a cavity that really shouldn't exist in a futon, but ah well, artistic licence, I guess...anyway, a phone that had slipped in behind the futon's nonexistent cushions rings.
Casey: What's that?
Marie [digs out the phone]: Uh...your phone? The one your left at Timmy's in 2010?
Panel 3: She hands him the phone.
Casey: I don't remember having a phone.
Marie: It has a miraculously absurd battery life. Just answer it.
Voice 1 [on phone, loudly]: Casey, you Irish bastard! You know what day it is; why aren't you drinking with us?
Casey [to Marie]: Do I drink?
Voice 1: Come down the pub and have a pint, man!
Voice 2: Is he sober? Why is he?
Voice 1: Mind the tentacles!
Voice 2: Go dtachta an diabhal thú! [May the devil choke you!]
Voice 3: Stop letting it get into the beer, you fecking--yaaaargh!
Panel 7: People are still swearing on the other end of the line.
Casey: I think I need to kill my phone now.
Marie: Just to be sure, you should probably use a hammer.
Alt-Text: Tentacles and beer: not a good combination. Don't let it happen to you.
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