“And just where did you find that?” Mata asked Sean. Sean was decked out head to toe in green. A bright green and fuzzy top hat sat atop his head that brought out the red-orange of his hair. On the hat was a huge three leaf clover. Below his freckled face he wore a light green button up short sleeved shirt with a dark green bow tie. Green shamrock suspenders held up green plaid pants. A black belt with a huge square buckle and matching shoes completed the look.
“I think it was me da’s. I found it in a box in storage. What’cha think?” he replied faking an Irish brogue he had just looked up on his portable. “Gosh and begorrah, I do believe I make a great leprechaun.”
Mata looked him up and down several times and then said, “Sure you wanna wear that? It may be a bit risky, especially today.”
“Bah. People need to be able to relax and take a joke.” Waving is hand as if waving away a bad smell.
“It’s not ‘people’ I am worried about.”, Mata implored.
“You don’t believe all that hokum do ya sis? Evil Leprechauns. Bah! I say. You worry too much.” Sean stated and casually walked out of the room.
Mata recalled the stories that Sean called hokum. Unsolved bazaar murders, missing people, failing companies, all with a similar theme. Leprechauns. General Mills, makers of Lucky Charms, decided to discontinue the line due to mysterious malfunctions on the manufacturing line that only effected that brand. Well that and the limerick-based death threats for head decision makers both at the company and not. A company called Flaming Leprechaun, had fires break out in it’s distillery. She found that one kind of poetic. Two of the unsolved bazaar murders; two consecutive mascots of Notre Dame. Hundreds of these events over the past decade. They did seem to slow more recently but use of the Leprechaun has almost disappeared. Even St. Patrick’s Day events are Leprechaun-less nowadays. And her stupid brother dug up that costume and had to wear it to the bar. She did not like this one bit.
Mata did not celebrate St. Patrick’s Day and never did. She liked the green and when she was old enough tried green beer. Nasty stuff. She used to like the parade too but now she used the time to catch up on reading as she knew Sean would be out all night. Presently her phone rang. The caller ID showed Sean.
“Hey brother mine. You drunk calling me again?” taunting Sean.
“Incorrect lassie. Tis not ye kin.” The voice was male but higher pitched, almost like if spoken after inhaling helium.
“Come on Sean, stop messing with me. You know how I feel about that.” Mata stated.
“Truly missy, I am not your kin, but Sean is here with me. Good, solid name Sean. Is he a good, solid boy? He doesn’t seem so to me. Mocking me and mine with that odious garb he is wearing.” A bit of anger crept into his voice. Now Mata was getting concerned.
“Who is this? Tell me now before I hang up and call the cops.” she tried to sound forceful but didn’t know if she pulled it off.
“Lassie, calm yourself. Just answer the question. I have been watching this pub for a few years knowing that they hold this shindig to see if anyone chooses to offend. This night one did, and I have him. The others were quite rude when I arrived but they’re rude no more. Sean had the good sense to not to be rude which is why we are talking now. Answer the question lassie. Is Sean a good, solid boy?” Did she sense impatience?
“Yes. Normally. We have Irish roots and he found that old outfit of my dads in storage. I tried to talk him out of wearing it. But he is one to push boundaries in pursuit of having fun. Dare I say, like a true leprechaun or at least until the last decade or so.” She thought now that this would be one of the Leprechaun killers. She opened her text app and texted the local police the address of the bar and was about to press send when she got the start of her life. The leprechaun and Sean were now in her living room and the Leprechaun had a very sharp golden dagger to Sean’s throat.
“Oh My GOD! How? What? I don’t understand. Don’t kill him. Please” shock, confusion, panic and finally imploring. Tears ran down her face.
“Lassie, don’t send that message or Sean and I will be gone in a blink.” Mata dropped the phone and fell back on the couch.
“Okay, okay. What do you want?”
“Explain your answer.” The short stocky man said. Red beard, single spectacle and wood looking pipe. The rest was really close to what Sean had on. So close it could be viewed as mockery.
“Ok. Can I have a moment?” the Leprechaun nodded slightly. She thought about the stories she had heard from her parents and grandparents as a kid. Before all this madness started.
“We were always taught that the only time to fear a Leprechaun was when you tried to take his gold. Is this true?” she pushed back her long straight strawberry blond hair off her shoulders.
“Truly that used to be the case. We have put up with this mockery for far too long. We have lost any respect we once had. We must gain…” Mata cut him off.
“Sir, you and your kind mistake our lightheartedness for lack of respect. That is far from the case. Most view your kind as a kind of creature we, ourselves, cannot be or at least cannot be often. We take this time of year, this day to, sometimes, act as we think you do. Drink, dance, play pranks and have unmitigated fun. This day we do not hoard our ‘gold’, we spend it, as Sean is a great example of. Did he tell you he saves up for this day? More than Christmas, more than birthdays. This is his fun day. He, especially Sean, respects you.” She waited for his response. She so wanted to call the police, their parents or someone. What good would it do? He had brought Sean here, from two miles away, in a blink. She could do nothing but try to convince him or them. The Leprechaun looked like he was at least considering her response.
“Lassie,” he sighed and looked downhearted, “Sean is free. He will have a great headache when he awakes.” He looked up at nothing as if thinking but then he nodded and continued. “My clan has informed me that we will take your words into account and have another look at how we have been and are being perceived and presented. We will do no more damage until we come to a decision but if the result be negative then what has come before will pale in comparison. I suggest you spread your words the best you can.” He put his pipe in his mouth, tipped his head as he crossed one foot behind him, toe tip on the floor and winked. Then he was gone.
Could her simple explanation halt the ‘damage’ as he called it? Could humans be trusted to respect what they thought fable? Who knows. Sean was safe now and from now on she too would celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with him.
good little story, enjoyed the divergence from work. Can’t think of anything to add or embellish for this story.