Dealing With A 'Mickcainiac'

Filled with love since being consecrated above, a peaceful dove wearing Foster Grants sunglasses invaded a desert oasis where a Raven played cards, telling heartful tales. “Mr. Raven,” the timid creature called out, “I married your cousin, the Big O, we are on our honeymoon.”

Taking a sip of cognac, the Raven sat back, “my cousin the Oriole got married? What for?”

“He is scared,” the dove paused.

“Scared?”

“A Mickcainiac attitude is stalking him,” the dove informed.

“A Mickcainiac? Is that a word?”

“It is a modern term defined as ‘an Irish psychopath’”

“Really,” the Raven’s interest now sparked.

“This sickness must stop; they must stop this war behavior.”

“Let us go meet with these angry foes, fallen sick with Mickcainiac disease,” the Raven suggested.

A few days later they both took flight towards the Leprechaun Lounge, and landed safely before proceeding inside the Emerald Isle Pub. It was then they saw the Mickcainiac effect, bitter jealous anger sentiments under minded a beautiful establishment.

“Any ideas? Mrs. Dove,”

“Yes,” the dove replied, “I am only going to say this once, ‘let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”

“And if you don’t,” the Raven continued, “you will deal with me.”

Seeing the Raven serious, the patrons all shook hands, agreeing to stop bombing each other, then got bombed together when the dirty bird bought a brandy round for the whole bar.