The Murphy twins
"Retell the most recent joke you've heard as a short piece of fiction." (This one, clearly, owes its existence to St. Patrick's Day.) -- Brian set up a new tray of glasses at the end of the bar, keeping one eye on the clock (just after midnight, it read) and the other on the two men sitting down at the other end, a stool separating them like strangers, although they both were as regular as Brooklyn bar patrons get. Jim Murphy had moved down a seat after some kind of argument Brian had only heard pieces of, but had seemed to involve some trick or another played thirty years ago back home in Ireland, one brother to the other. Now he and his twin Mike were sulking apart, each putting down the drinks as fast as he'd ever seen them do, not saying a word to each other. Mike thumped an empty glass down with meaning, eyeballing Brian. "Barman!" he called. Brian used the walk down to the other end of the bar to swipe the bar clean with his towel, in ...