[Slua] The Logic of War

Day 4,137, 09:00 • Published in Ireland Estonia • by LarssonKaisa


It was early the early hours of the St Patricks Day. A bright moon lit up the sky as a cool temperate breeze blew through the streets.

Sat around a scratched oak table was a gang of friends, united in their love for Irish Republicanism and national sovereignty.

They'd spent the evening in the pub, knocking back pints of creamy Guinness.

These men and women were rich of culture and knew their identity.

Sticking to their beliefs of celebrating all things Irish, each of those present had a hand firmly held onto a tumbler glass of Jameson Caskmates.



"Let's just take on the Brits", roared Slua with a grin on his face.

"You're drunk again, you always get these ideas when you're drunk" chuckled the diligent Cat Sith.

"I mean it this time, let's just do it! They are our natural enemies. We've fought them throughout our history. They have it coming."

Slua slammed his glass of whiskey, now empty, onto the table. Bang.

"I'm sick of playing games, I want war" shouted Slua at the top of his voice.

The crowd gathered around the table all took a pause from sipping their drinks and looked up at their leader.

"Are you sure about it this time? You won't wake up and have any regrets?" questioned MrBadDecisions as he placed down his whiskey and began to stroke the stubble on his chin.

Every glass was placed down on the table, not a drop left in any.

The Irish rose their feet staring at their leader in anticipation of an answer.

"No regrets. We're going to war in the morning! Bellowed Slua as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and punched the air with it in hand.

The Irish cheered raising their empty glasses in salute.

"Éire Abú" they chanted in unison.


Le meas
Slua