Bingo Night

Grace Conlon, age 15, Coláiste Mhuire in Tourmakeady, Co Mayo

'I noticed that the numbers on their cards were the exact same bar one. I had a feeling that would be a problem and I was right'
'I noticed that the numbers on their cards were the exact same bar one. I had a feeling that would be a problem and I was right'

It was August 15th in Ballymask and that meant it was bingo night. The lads and I deserved a part of this as we worked like dogs in the bogs that summer.

“How much was the jackpot again?” asked Séan Óg.

“Ten bags of sand,” I responded.

“What good is 10 bags of sand, Gráinne?” Páidí asked me.

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“Ten bags of sand is 10 grand, sure everyone knows that, Páidí.”

“Ah sure who cares what the prize is, we have no chance of winning it,” interrupted Séan Óg. He was right; all the people who kissed the organisers arses won it each year. Unfortunately, those were the ways of Ballymask. That is why we devised a plan to win the bingo that year.

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The plan was a bit ridiculous looking back on it but I suppose it worked. We decided to play the same game as the people of Ballymask and kissed the organisers’ arses. Michael, the bingo caller, was notorious for letting people cheat. However, he was not too fond of Séan Óg or me. So that is why Páidí called Michael and told him that somebody had stolen his quad and that the cheapest option was shy of €10,000.

“Oh, you poor, poor gasúr. I’ll see what I can do but if you do win – not saying that you will, but if you do – I don’t want that brother and friend of yours, the vampire and the banshee as I call them, within walking distance of the airgead. Do you understand?”

“I do yeah, Michael, now I don’t want you to risk your job for me because I am just not worth it.”

“A lad without his quad is like a shed with no animals. I would be happy to help you in any way possible, Páidí.”

“You’re an absolute legend, Michael!” The phone hung up.

Bingo night began at 8.30 sharp. If the bingo caller rules were slacking, the time rules were certainly not. If you arrived at the community hall even at 8.31 you were not allowed entry even if you too were best of friends with Michael. However, it was now only 5.30 and all we had to do was pray that Páidí had got through to Michael. I decided that my business at Páidí's and Séan Óg’s house was over and went home to get ready for the bingo. I had a shower, blow-dried and straightened my hair and dolled myself up in every way possible just for the fun of it, or perhaps Michael’s “banshee” nickname upset me more than I thought. By the time I finished, I noticed that it was already 8.10 and so I ran down to the community hall.

I arrived at the bingo at around 8.25. I noticed that Séan Óg was there without Páidí.

“Séan Óg, where is Páidí?”

“He’s not coming. He started giving out to me about an hour ago, something about how it wasn’t fair what we were doing to Michael and our friends in the community. Honestly, it was just a load of rubbish.”

I noticed that there was something different about him – he had fake tan on. Páidí and Séan Óg were identical twins but the only difference between the two was that Páidí tanned in the sun and Séan Óg did not, thus Michael nicknaming Séan Óg a “vampire”.

“Séan Óg, did you not remember that it’s a bingo that is on tonight and not a teen disco?”

“You’re very funny, Gráinne, but it was actually just an old spray tan Mam had.”

“Whatever you tell yourself, Séan Óg.”

We were then interrupted by Michael’s microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, fáilte to the annual bingo night and tonight Ballymask will be giving out a jackpot prize of €10,000.” He then winked in Séan Óg’s or “Páidí's” direction. Séan Óg and I looked at each other with fake surprise and sat down at a table.

Our table was predominately old men and word must have spread about Páidí's “stolen” quad because they knew all about it.

“Páidí, who do you reckon stole the quad?”

Another one cut in, “I’d say it was one of them Murphys who live down your road. You cannot trust one of them as far as you can throw them!”

“I don’t know myself but it’s gone now and what can I do about it?” Séan Óg eventually said. “Well said, Páidí, if it was that useless brother of yours here and he won the prize, sure I’d say he’d take all the money for himself.”

Finally, Michael started calling out the numbers; 12, 4, 9, 7, 3. Much to Séan Óg’s dismay, not a single number on his card was called out. “This is bull,” he whispered to me. “I’m not an expert but I know well that Michael has something to do with this.”

“You’re such a drama queen. And besides, we’re only 10 minutes in, we have plenty of time.”

It turned out that Séan Óg was not much of a drama queen after all. An hour passed and he had yet to mark a single number. Another hour had passed and his marker had a thin layer of dust on it. When the third hour struck, half the community hall had won money prizes ranging from €5 up to €100. Even myself, who was not particularly lucky, had won a €50 prize. Séan Óg’s bingo cards were left untouched.

It was nearing midnight when Michael announced that we would now be starting the jackpot prize. The rule for the jackpot prize was to mark every number on the card in order to win. By this time, Séan Óg had lost hope in even marking a number, never mind winning, and so he started talking to some of the old men.

“Ah this whole thing is rigged!” He pointed at his blank cards. “Look at that, not a single thing is marked!”

“It’s not over until the jackpot is over, Páidí.”

“Ah I suppose you’re right, Thomás.’

Michael started calling out the numbers: “11, 9, 64, 28.” Séan Óg looked more awake right now at midnight than he did this afternoon. “Gráinne, those are my numbers, look!”

I looked at his card. He was right. Every single number Michael called out was on his card. Although, there was a slight problem, Thomás had the same numbers marked too. “33 ... 96 ... 40 ... 2.” All of those numbers were on both of their cards too like before. I noticed that the numbers on their cards were the exact same bar one. I had a feeling that would be a problem and I was right.

Ultimately, it came down to the wire, the pair of them had only one number left: “18.”

“BINGO!”

It was not “Páidí” who called it, but Thomás, who was ecstatic. He got up and started cheering and high-fiving everyone at the table but suddenly he began to wheeze and clutch his chest.

“What’s happening to him?” Séan Óg asked me. By the time Séan Óg said this Thomás was already unconscious on the floor.

“He’s having a heart attack! Does anyone know CPR?”

Séan Óg told me he did. He said that he learned it during some sick idea of a family day bonding session. While he was doing CPR on Thomás, I looked around for an AED and surely enough there was one on the wall beside our table. I did not actually know how to use an AED but luckily enough there were instructions in it when I opened it. Séan Óg continued doing CPR on Thomás while I followed the instructions in the AED. Thomás was slowly regaining consciousness. Somebody must have called the ambulance because by the time Thomás was fully conscious there was an ambulance waiting outside. He would not let the ambulance take him until he told Michael something.

“Without those two young ones,” he pointed at us, “I would not be talking to you right now, so that is why I want them to have my prize.”

Séan Óg whispered to me, “Sure isn’t it an ill wind that blows no good!”

Grace Conlon
Grace Conlon