The weather had been warm all week, extremely warm for this time of year. Saturday’s annual leprechaun leap, a fund raiser for the local children’s hospital, was a veritable walk in a sunny park, at least until the few hundred very brave or very drunk participants hit the 33 degree salt water and reality set in like a sledge hammer. Still, the 60 degree air made life much more palatable, until last night. Mother Nature made one last effort to let the citizens of this waterfront town on the Connecticut shoreline know that just maybe, she was still in charge. The 35 degree breeze swept in with 25 knot gusts, a dark grey day and brief spits of rain. Two girls, flyweight size, each wearing bright green slicker rain jackets bounce down the middle of the green in Milford venturing over to various statues, most celebrating the bravery of town war veterans, in no particular hurry. Suddenly a single piece of paper sails down the town green slicing its way through the two and then bursts upwards in the sky riding an updraft. One of the girls follows its launch into the sky. Cassie Scerbo smiles and squints into the cloudy sky.

“What are you two doing out here?” Jill Wagner marches up behind the two, clearly having been sent on a mission to find them and somewhat annoyed at the chore.

“Just messing around.” Brenda Song replies with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah. This is a nice town. The harbor down there is real neat.” Cassie adds to the conversation with as much innocence as a diabolical prankster can muster.

“Right. Well pardon me if I only see you as being interested in touring in a town that conducts tours of munitions dumps and pudding production facilities.” Wagner gives her team mate a sanguine smile as they walk.

“Right O Jilly Wags. Did you know that they make Black Hawk helicopters in the next town over?” Cassie responds with glee.

“My point exactly. Alright, they told me to tell you two to behave yourselves in here but we know how that’s going to go so when it’s all said and done you remember to tell them that I did actually warn you, okay?” Jill opens the heavy wooden door to a building with a sign reading simply “McAylin” just above.

As soon as she pushes in Wags can feel the heat from the jammed packed crowd inside and the sudden woosh of two flyweights surging by her from below. The interior is darkish, somewhat run down but the booze is flowing and by reputation the food is extraordinary. Perfect FCBA St Patty’s Day fight material! 

“I see that you have corralled the ragamuffins my dear. Pointy maybe now we can start before I turn into a puddle of liquor over here.” Ginny disengages Ira to throw a smile Jill Wagner’s way. Ira despite having a fatal crush on the Bazz girl is overcome with a fear that a possible beat down at the hands of Ginny can bring and doesn’t even stop to drool at Jill before waddling back to the lower tier bar.

“Careful Ginny. One of those ragamuffins is as wicked as Lex Luther and as quick as Usain Bolt.” Jilly Wags responds.

“You wanna know a little secret honey? I love me some pudding and that jackrabbit makes the best pudding in town…” Ginny throws back while Poindexter Del Crunchy interrupts before things get too down and dirty.

“Ahem! Alright then I believe we’re good to go!” Pointy plows through Ginny and gives Screej a friendly nod.

Meanwhile Tess Valmore winces as another healthy portion of broiled salmon, carried by Liam McAylin, the youngest of the McAylins and built as solidly as his older brothers, passes under her nose. “Honey I have to, and I mean have to, get my hands on one of those platters.”

“Agreed.” One Bartholomew Von Voutenvasen Alahandor Hay tries to keep his famished fiancé calm as he attempts to flag down one of the McAylin brothers who are moving around behind the bar like the rugby players they used to be.

Suddenly a rather spry body vaults up onto the chair next to Smackey. “Let me take care of you Smackeroo! Denny! I need four Salmons! One each for our lovebirds here, One for Mrs Mags Worth Worthington and of course, one for me! I’ll be lunching with my friends today Denny!”

“Right away Cassie but first a little toss around the bar.” Donnacha “Denny” McAylin, former member of the Irish Lions National Rugby Team reaches over the bar, grabs a squealing Cassie Scerbo like a rag doll and tosses her into the air. The entirety of the bar watches as Dennis McAylin throws the Bazz flyweight over to his brother Daithi, who after a full toss over his head shoots her full steam over to Liam who quickly slides two corned beef sandwiches down the bar, one to the Milford Fire Commissioner and the other to the Mayor and deftly catches an airborne Scerbo flips her into the air and then back to Denny. It’s an extraordinary scene as the Bazz fighter is thrown around between the three behemoths as if she were a nerf football while the former gymnast maintains a perfectly aerodynamic shape.

“Is she going to die?” A horrified Ira Fishbien exclaims.

“No, but a little trauma might be good.” Smackey returns as the two keep their eyes glued to the aerial act.

Meanwhile the mobbed bar is amazed with the flying Bazz girl. “Ooooohs” and “Aaaahs” fill the bar with each toss.

“Do they know what they’re doing” The Wiz asks Pointy his attention totally into the Cassie toss.

“Looks it. Donnacha played against me at least a couple dozen times in the Ireland vs Scotland matches while the two younger ones were premiere league players as well. Yeah, tossing a troublesome flyweight around is not a problem.” Pointy grins.

Cassie is tossed one more time and doing an amazing summersault in mid-air dismounts with a perfect landing on her feet, arms spread like an Olympic gymnast. The crowd roars its approval and Cassie returns to her side of the bar only to find that a rather obese bald man has dug into her salmon while ignoring Mag Worthington’s protestations. Cassie jabs her finger into the large man’s chest watching it sink in up to her wrist. At first the man ignores her but if Cassie is one thing it’s persistent. At one point the man looks up and feigns confusion but it’s too late. Daithi McAylin has stopped by and isn’t too happy. The squealing porcine body is lifted from its chair and tossed from the bar in short order. People walking by the exterior of McAylin watch in shock as a 275 lb man is thrown out onto the street in a rumpled heap landing in a slide on the rough gravel all as a new Salmon lunch is put in front of a happy Cassie Scerbo.

Meanwhile the crowd is getting anxious. White collar lawyers, insurance agents and accountants are pounding back libations alongside plumbers, carpenters and electricians and as with all FCBA St. Patty’s day events there is no official fight schedule but they all know that it’s coming.

“They like each other?” Mags Worthington looks wide eyed at the four of them laughing at something one of the Wahlbergs has said.

“Yup. Aly and Olivia like her style, competitive to the death, a little crazy and never afraid to fight anyone who gets in her way. It’s sort of game respecting game if you know what I mean.” Cassie quickly responds so to return to her luscious salmon meal.

“Just a little crazy?” Mags cackles.

“Ugh you realize who else is in Bazz remember? It’s all about relativity.” Smackey nods his head towards an eating Cassie Scerbo which garners a knowing grin from the FCBA reporter for The Times.

Pointy and Screej saunter to the middle of the tavern’s floor to announce the worst kept secret in town.

“Alright! Alright! Everbody settle down! Sceej and I are here to give you Milford houligans a bit of entertainment to go with your whiskey and beer. So make some room here you band of near do wells and I would like to turn things over to my good friend Sceej.” Pointy starts things off introducing Screej.

“Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce tonight’s pugilists. From the Bazz Fight Club, the pride of their powerful bantam fleet, Olivia ‘Wilde Girl’ Wilde!” An agile brown haired demon leaps through the crowd wearing the same tight fitting leather vest she wore when she last fought on St Patty’s day, a pair of extremely well fitting faded jeans and black boots that end up over her knees. Olivia Wilde bounces around the ring pushing back semi inebriated patrons to make the space bigger. “Wilde Girl’s opponent tonight is the mainstay of the Screej Club. Jenny “Mac the Knife” McCarthy!” Sceej barely gets his out when McCarthy bursts out of the crowd in a bright green outfit that could only be described as an homage to Apollo Creed from the original Rocky movie. Her top hat and jacket combo are almost as outlandish as her behavior. “I want you Wilde Girl! I’m going to pick your Irish heritage apart tonight!” Meanwhile Olivia sits back literally leaning against the crowd with a smile on her face enjoying the show. The ref gives instructions to Wilde and McCarthy who has disrobed enough to have a similar vest as Wilde’s except that her vest has blinking lights where they would count the most. When the ref asks Olivia if the lights are a distraction she gets the crowd roaring when she answers “Naw if she takes off her vest it’ll look like I’m fighting someone’s grandma!” “Hardy! Har! Har! Wilde Girl!” McCarthy retorts. “How about older sister then?” Wilde smiles only to have an unseen flyweight add, “Way, way older!” McCarthy fights back giving Wilde and her diabolical partner the finger and yells “Let’s get it on!” and then she charges. Wilde screams “Tar chugam deirfiur!” meaning Come at me sister!

Wilde launches two beautiful punches right away. The jab-right hand combo stops McCarthy in her tracks. She’s rocked and forced to cover up right away as the crowd roars and convulses onto the fighters space. Wilde ducks down going to the body tagging Jenny twice to her side with a couple of rights. McCarth shocked by the speed and strength of the Wilde Girl blitz. She’s backing up and throwing defensive punches. She’s getting some in but Olivia’s punching is overwhelming. It’s jab, jab, jab and boom from Olivia who is all over her blonde opponent. Suddenly Jenny dances free. “I’m just getting started!” She yells and gets an effective jab and then a right hand into Olivia’s grill. This only seems to piss off Olivia who launches a right hand roundhouse that lands with a crack on Jenny’s chin. McCarthy is launched back into the crowd. She lands against a rotund lawyer who backs into a bespectacled man and his date, (who brings a date to this event?) crushing them against a table with an audible groan as if the couple are being crushed in a mining accident. Meanwhile the counselor is holding a corned beef sandwich and a glass of Jamesons. The sandwich explodes into the air sending salted meat, shredded cabbage and marble rye all over the crowd which moans its disapproval. McCarthy who would have been down on the floor if it weren’t for the oversized balding pillow recovers with her head nestled against a sizeable man boob for a moment, pushes off the wallowing barrister and rises. She grabs a shot glass of whiskey from a patron and pours it down. Unfortunately her mouth isn’t quite working right and half the precious booze flows down her face.

“I don’t think so. If you haven’t noticed we’re busy.” Gena Lee looks down at the gray haired man with a snarl.

“Uhm … I don’t drink whiskey?” Palicki, the big Girl Scout, trying to be demure in the midst of drunken chaos.

“Oh what a wonderful lass. I love you. Let’s have a dance.” With that the codger leans in and wraps his arms around the tall welter nestling his head in just where the padding is the best and starts to dance with her, in effect taking her out of the corner in between the round. McCarthy yells to Palicki for advice, sees that the welter is trapped by a waltzing man and mutters “Scerbo!” under her breath.

The round starts out with McCarthy pretty much recovered from the first round blitzkrieg. She’s stalking Wilde around and through drunks that are wondering about in the fight circle. The blonde has given up trying to taunt Olivia as any sidetracking results in a successful Wilde combo that sends an inordinate amount of pain. The Bazz fighter is just too good to try and hot dog with. McCarthy jabs at Wilde and lights her up with one to the chin. Jenny presses her advantage burrowing in with some action to the body. Wilde trying to hold her off clinches at mid-ring until the ref breaks it up. McCarthy continues with her assault. Moving in and out, up and down Joe Frazier style. She’s muscling her way in and scoring against Wilde Girl. Wilde getting off some combos but they are not in a league with McCarthy’s strikes. The round ends with Jenny McCarthy in command after having a dominate round.

Wilde is getting some serious advice in her corner while McCarthy seems to be all alone, her corner people now caught up having to dance with a cadre of septuagenarians sent there way by Cassie Scerbo. Even Screej is left to try and ward off a woman who has abandoned her walker to get in a musical stroll with the club chairman. The two women are warmed up and showing off just how good a shape they are in. They come at each other with intensity. McCarthy going for the body while Wilde fires off jabs peppering Jenny rapid fire. Just then one of the drunks decides that his trip to the men’s room is far more important than the fight happening right in front of him. He dotters out into the circle and even turns to talk to one of his friends who is trying to talk him into getting out of the way. He waves to the guy and smiling turns back to the process at hand and walks right into an Olivia Wilde right hand that spins him around facing Jenny McCarthy who slams him with a blast to his solar plexus. The man is heard uttering “Aw! Down I go!” as he tumbles into a fetal position and is immediately withdrawn from the field of play. Meanwhile the two fighters carry on and it’s Olivia who carries the advantage. She’s jabbing at McCarthy frustrating her attempts to get into the body. Her strikes are quicker than anything the blonde has faced in recent times and she’s getting bruised up by the bare fist that seems to have set up camp right in her face. 

The round ends with McCarthy staggering back to her corner. Evidently the Screej girls have figured out the old man problem having them form a mini pyramid for their fighter to sit in.

Both fighters taking this brawl with increased seriousness as the rounds flow uninterrupted from the bar. At one point Wilde takes matters into her own hands grabbing a couple of glasses of whiskey from a waitress and sliding one the length of the floor over to her opponent. She lifts her glass and winks at the diabolical Jenny McCarthy who winks back and downs it along with the Bazz girl. Donny Wahlberg can be heard shouting “That’s my girl!” as the two fighters head back to battle. Olivia goes back to what has worked. She’s jabbing at McCarthy and following up with her strong right hand when an opening is available. Meanwhile Jenny’s digging in and not even fathoming giving up. It may not be pretty but she’s holding off the Bazz fighter and creating some of her own punishment. She stays low sneaking on Olivia with power punches to the body that boom throughout the room when there is a connection causing some oooohs and aaaaghs amongst the increasingly lubricated crowd. Wilde steps in with a three punch combo led by two jabs that snap McCarthy’s head back and rock her with a strong right hand. While the ref is following closely neither fighter is looking as if they are slowing down. Wilde gets the better of this round with her mastery of keeping McCarthy at a distance with her left hand and doing some damage at the same time.

It became official that the patrons of McAylin were now full on revelers. Security which consisted of the McAylins themselves and a couple of rather athletic waitresses were falling behind. While the thought of a McAylin in your face was daunting on a normal day it was readily apparent that reason had crossed the Mason Dixie line where the thought of physical harm was outweighed by having a good time. People were wandering about like extras on a zombie apocalypse movie and the ref takes a moment to ask the fighters if continuing this fight is a good idea. Wilde simply laughs at him while McCarthy threatens his family. Decision made. The fighters get in close and play rockem sockem robots with uppercuts to the chin and short body shots. The circle is getting smaller as the fighters wrestle for position. The ref breaks things up and Wilde gets back to jabbing while McCarthy bobs and weaves dodging many of the sharp jabs coming at her. They’re circling each other from a distance now, each scoring with their chosen strength, Wilde to McCarthy’s head while McCarthy lashes at Wilde’s body. 

“What a fight this is! They’re both superb! Mags Worth Worthington lets out to the nodding agreement of both Bartholomew Shake Your Booty Alahandro Hay and Tess Valmore who are glued to the action. Meanwhile at the owner’s bar Ginny leans in and whispers to The Wiz, “This could turn out to be the best St Patty’s Day brawl ever!” “I think that it already is!” The Wiz crows back. 

Suddenly Father Seamus O’Leary and fate stand and step into the ring having decided that what this bar needed, at the moment with all that was going on, was a good and proper blessing. So despite the time having traveled to late afternoon to early evening the pastor let out “Good morning and God bless!” with the shrill volume that only a man who has commanded a diocese for so many years can muster. Olivia Wilde turns at just the wrong moment while Jenny McCarthy follows through with an overhand left at just the right time. McCarthy knocks Wilde’s mouthpiece out with the force of the punch. There’s no doubt about the outcome. Wilde goes to the floor like a felled red oak and doesn’t move. The crowd with any command of sanity left goes bananas while the priest walks slowly around the ring, arms extended on high reciting verse in a voice that can only be described as slllllluuurrrreed. Screej and his girls are actually in the circle trying to revive Wilde so that the fight can somehow continue while the ref dutifully counts. Regardless Wilde is done for the day and the ref announces a ROUND 6 KO FOR JENNY McCARTHY! 

Comments afterward vary and consist of Mark Wahlberg “Is that right? No! That ain’t right!”

Donnie Wahlberg “Ooooh boy! I’m getting some tonight!”

Father O’Leary “By the powers vested in me! No get your hands off of me I haven’t finished!”

Donnacha McAylin “Here take the whole bottle Pointy.” 

Bartholmew Salmon Croquet Alahandro Hay “She’s going to make someone pay for this. Please keep her away from me!”

Tess Valmore “Cassie will be fine. Please grow a pair honey!”

Never one to not take advantage of an opportunity to crow even Jenny McCarthy is speechless. She shrugs at Pointy and turns to celebrate with her crew. Screej shakes Pointy’s hand and tells him “Hey your buddies have a hell of tavern here. I’m definitely coming back.” Having already chalked it up to just another St Patty’s day. “That’s why we never scheduled a match against Ireland on this day. Suicide. Absolute suicide.” Pointy can only shake his head and invite the owners to the regular bar for a round of drinks. 

When it’s all over The Sceej crew is climbing into their limo for a ride back to their camp.

“Hey whatever happened to that pipsqueak Scerbo? She sure disappeared! I guess she’ll know better than to mess with me again!” Jenny McCarthy crows as she takes off her top hat to climb back into the limo. Gena Nolin looks over and shakes her head. The indelible ink pattern from the hat rim spells out “SCERBO RULES” across McCarthy’s forehead. “Sure Jen. You sure got the better of that pipsqueak tonight.”