The Pope Of Comber

Chapter 12

Is it a bird or a plane? No, it's a prop

Fifth week into the location shoot: The 'Manor-House' grounds early morning

At last, the big day had finally dawned. Shelly was the first one up in the morning baying in the early sunshine-although it quickly clouded over.

He was the first one up possibility due to the fact he hadn't slept a wink the night before.

No one really knew the pain and suffering he went through for his art. The UFO Prop, number '106' on the prop list, was his pride and joy. All two and a half tons of glowing tin and wood was just awaiting her first performance.

Yeah sure, all the money guys back home were shouting, 'Green-Screen' and 'CG' is cheaper.

Well they don't know shit? Like Shelly knows shit? 'Real is the Deal', is his and always as been his Trademark.

Better late than never, although the delivery guys said sometime in the morning. Shelly wasn't that confident of their timing.

Everything is so God-dammed slow in this little part of the world? He thought. Thailand is the land of smiles, Northern Ireland is the land of the slow.

It would take a few days to set her up. There was no rush, plus she would have to go through some minor tests first.

But God was he so very excited.

Then Shelly saw Baxter in the distance, looks like he's not the only asshole suffering from insomnia, he thought.

'Hey Baxter Boy' Shelly yelled, suddenly breaking the beautiful morning silence, with his Texas drawl.

Baxter looked like he had just jumped out of his skin when he heard the sound of Shelly's roar.

'Bye-Golly, you scared the living-daylights out of me!' Baxter said, as he held his hand to his chest, like he had just felt the first tremors of a heart-attack.

'Gee, sorry guy, sometimes I forget just how loud a SOB I can be.' Shelly said, apologizing with an exaggerated curtsy.

'What's wrong Baxter, Boy, can't you sleep?'

'No...' Baxter said, as if lost for words, 'I just like to take a walk about the estate first thing. I find it therapeutic.'

'No shit, I just can't sleep! Anything therapeutic, about that shit, boy?' Shelly said, smiling too himself.

Baxter stood staring at Shelly. Shelly stood staring back at him. Both men stood at the entrance of the marquee.

These bloody Yanks really are a pain in the arse so uncouth it was getting embarrassing at the best of times. Thought Baxter?

'Shit Boy.' Shelly broke Baxter's train of thought, 'Don't stand out there come on inside here and I'll get us a couple of coffees'

Baxter entered the marquee where Shelly had just stood and followed him to the refreshments table within.

Both men stood making small talk drinking their coffees then Shelly pulled out a huge cigar from the breast-pocket of his jacket and lit it.

'I don't think you allowed too smoke that in here, Shelly?' Baxter said, and as soon as he did he wished he hadn't.

Shelly laughed, 'Don't you know by now boy, I don't give a shit about the fucking rules!' he finished the statement with a quick back-slap between Baxter's shoulder-blades.