Summary

The web content recounts a traditional Irish story, as told by the author's grandfather, about a man named Sandy who makes a deal with the Devil for a bottle of stout that never runs dry and uses his second wish to refill the bottle, illustrating the cleverness and humor typical of Irish folklore.

Abstract

The narrative shared on the website is an old Irish tale passed down through generations, with the author's grandfather as the original storyteller. It features a character named Sandy who strikes a deal with the Devil, exchanging his soul for two wishes. Sandy's first wish is for a bottle of Irish stout that remains inexhaustibly full, demonstrating his love for the beverage. For his second wish, rather than asking for something grandiose, Sandy cheekily requests another drink from the ever-full bottle, thereby outsmarting the Devil. The story is filled with wit and reflects the Irish penchant for storytelling and wordplay, often involving ethnic humor. The author also hints at a deeper myth about what the Devil truly seeks and promises future stories, while also encouraging readers to engage with the platform by following the author and considering a Medium membership.

Opinions

The author has a fondness for ethnic humor, particularly jokes involving Irish, Scottish, British, or Welsh people, which he attributes to his family's diverse ancestry.
There is a nostalgic appreciation for the old Irish stories and the way they are told, with the author expressing a personal connection to these tales through his grandfather.
The author seems to value the tradition of storytelling and its ability to preserve cultural heritage and convey moral lessons through wit and humor.
He implies that the common portrayal of the Devil collecting souls is merely a myth and suggests there is a more complex story to tell about the Devil's intentions, indicating a deeper interest in folklore and its origins.
The author is transparent about his intent to grow his audience, asking readers to follow him and subscribe to Medium, which shows his commitment to writing and sharing stories with a broader audience.

All right, so it’s not good Irish stout, but it is my favorite beer, even if they don’t make it anymore. Damn it, now I sound like my Granddad!

An Old Irish Story

My Granddad loved stories.

Now a lot of those stories were often wrapped around a cheesy ethnic joke — like the story he used to tell about the old fellow from some country or another driving this old beater of a car to some other country or another and getting pulled over at the border. And when the border guard takes a look at the old fellow’s vehicle he says to this old ethnic gentleman — “My god, man. Don’t you realize your car doesn’t have a reverse in it?”

“Oh that’s okay,” the old ethnic gentleman would reply. “I’m not planning on coming back.”

Yeah, those kind of ethnic jokes. Especially jokes involving either Irish, Scottish, British or the Welsh. My grandmother told me that was because or family was she liked to call “the salt of the isle”, meaning that my ancestors would sleep with damn near anybody, no matter what their ancestral background might be.

Now, I usually don’t tell those kind of jokes, but I still remember hearing them from my Granddad and even just hearing them in the schoolyard when I was a kid. So let me go out on a limb and tell you folks this old Irish story that my Granddad told me.

It seems one day that the Devil walked into town and knocked on this old Irish gentleman’s door.

Let’s give that old gentleman a name, shall we?

We’ll call him Sandy.

“Sandy, my lad,” said the Devil. “I want to make you a deal in return for your soul.”

(Now, it’s only a myth that the Devil walks around looking to buy up souls, and one of these days I’ll make it a point to sit down here on my Medium channel and write down the story of what the Devil is REALLY trying to buy up, but for now we’ll save that story for another time)

“Well, come to think of it,” Sandy replied. “I’ve never really had much use for my soul. I figure I’ll get buy in this on my looks, my luck, and a bottle or two of good Irish whiskey.”

Well sir, that was just the kind of answer the Devil had been waiting to hear.

“Good enough,” the Devil said. “How about I give you my best offer. I’ll trade you two wishes for anything you want, and when you pass away I’ll be here to take your soul.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Sandy said, spitting on his hand and shaking the Devil’s hand to seal the deal.

The Devil spat on his own hand and shook Sandy’s hand, even though he thought that whole hand-pitting custom was kind of a capital-G gross-out.

“So what’s your first wish?” the Devil asked.

“I want a bottle of good Irish stout,” Sandy said. “Only not just any kind of bottle, you understand. I want me a bottle that will never run dry, no matter how deep of a swallow I take from it, no matter often I take a swallow, I don’t want that bottle to ever run dry.”

“Done, my son,” the Devil said, pulling a bottle of good Irish Stout out of his abyss deep vest pocket. “That was as easy as Bob is your uncle.”

“And Robert’s my father’s brother!” Sandy replied, catching hold of the bottle, popping the cork and tilting it so far back that I swear he might have twisted his neck.

Glug, glug, glug, glug.

I mean that man swallowed so long that his boots filled up and slopped over.

And then he leaned back and rolled out a long thundering belch that registered about twenty-seven on the Richter Scale, which hadn’t even been invented yet.

And just as that old Devil had said, the bottle was still just as full as full could get. Not a single drop of stout was missing from it.

“Well that’s fine, my son,” Sandy said. “That’s fine and good and dandy.”

“So what’ll be you second wish,” the Devil asked. “And it cannot be for any more wishes. The rules don’t work that way, and you know it.”

“Never dreamed it,” Sandy said. “Never dreamed it at all.”

And then he held that magic, never-run-dry, bottle of good Irish Stout up to the sunlight and said “For my second wish, I’ll have one more please!”

And as my Granddad used to say — “May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

I hope you enjoyed that story. I apologize if you folks were expect a dirty story, but I’ll have another one ready for you before the weekend is out, if not sooner.

Please follow me. That’s all I ask.

Now have a good night now

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