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The Three-Sided Penny

The Three-Sided Penny Dennis McFadden fiction Old Foley was the first to discover the thing, followed by your man Terrance Lafferty. Foley brought it into Cleery's public house to show it off one evening, a year or two gone by now. He was a farmer, Foley was, a poor excuse for a farmer, a man who couldn't afford the price of a belt so he kept his trousers up with a piece of rope. Nor could he sustain himself on his own wee patch of potatoes, possessing little more than an old donkey named Isadora, which was fit only for glue, and a fierce and malicious old bull called Cromwell. So he worked at odd jobs, Foley did, one of which was cutting turf on the MacGregor estate for his lordship. Standing at the bottom of the bog cutting his last sod of turf this particular day he looks Photograph by Andreas Beer WINTER 2007 / THE MISSOuRI REvIEW 25 down and there it lay, there beside his slean like it just fell from God's own pocket, this little piece of metal in the shape of a triangle. From God's pocket to Foley's own, and not a word was spoken. A http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

The Three-Sided Penny

McFadden, Dennis.
The Missouri Review , Volume 30 (4) – Jan 3, 2007
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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © 2007 by The Curators of the University of Missouri. All rights reserved.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
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Abstract

Dennis McFadden fiction Old Foley was the first to discover the thing, followed by your man Terrance Lafferty. Foley brought it into Cleery's public house to show it off one evening, a year or two gone by now. He was a farmer, Foley was, a poor excuse for a farmer, a man who couldn't afford the price of a belt so he kept his trousers up with a piece of rope. Nor could he sustain himself on his own wee patch of potatoes, possessing little more than an old donkey named Isadora, which was fit only for glue, and a fierce and malicious old bull called Cromwell. So he worked at odd jobs, Foley did, one of which was cutting turf on the MacGregor estate for his lordship. Standing at the bottom of the bog cutting his last sod of turf this particular day he looks Photograph by Andreas Beer WINTER 2007 / THE MISSOuRI REvIEW 25 down and there it lay, there beside his slean like it just fell from God's own pocket, this little piece of metal in the shape of a triangle. From God's pocket to Foley's own, and not a word was spoken. A

Journal

The Missouri Review – University of Missouri

Published: Jan 3, 2007

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