Time: Saint Patrick's Day, late evening.
Setting: An old man and his grandson walk down the street, passing a pub full of revelers. The grandfather turns to the boy:
"Let me tell you a story about a incredible man named Maewyn. He was born in the First Century in Scotland, and was captured by pirates as a lad. Enslaved in Ireland, he learned the language and gained his faith in God. After herding sheep for what seemed like an eternity, he escaped on a ship to Britain. After becoming a priest and bishop, he returned to Ireland... to the people who had mistreated him. Some called him Maewyn... but most called him by the name he acquired as a priest: Patrick."
"Once this was a holiday of reflection. Now? It is a holiday to celebrate beer, Leprechauns, and an Irish heritage."
The two figures pass the pub and disappear into the March fog.
Sorry, Heath. This one's not about dancing leprechauns swigging Guinness around a shamrock. I did wear green though :)