”My God! What happened to you?” the Irish bartender asked Kelly as he hobbled in on a crutch, one arm in a cast.
”I got in a tiff with Riley” the Irish man replied.
”Riley? He’s just a wee fellow,” the Irish barkeep said, surprised. ”He must have had something in his hand.”
”That he did,” Kelly said. ”A shovel it was.”
”Dear Lord. Didn’t you have anything in your hand?”
”Aye, that I did — Mrs. Riley’s left boob.” Kelly said. ”And a beautiful thing it was, but not much use in a fight.”