It was the evening of St Patrick's Day. All the way from the Emerald Isle had come Seamus the Leprechaun,
who Walter informed me was some kind of distant cousin. With him he brought gold aplenty from the pot at
the end of the rainbow, a glint in his eye and taste for some night life.
"Come on Walter ya feckin' eedjit! You caan't go aan loike dis!" said Seamus to his little relative.
"Ya haven't washed for days. You haven't changed your clothes. To be frank, you smell. This place is
such a mess. Peanuts, pen lids, two pence pieces, unidentifiable fluff and flicked bogies everywhere."
"Yeh, yeh," sighed Walter. "I'll clear it up tomorrow."
"Aaaaah, Jeeeesus, will y'ever snap out of it, now? It's Paddy's noight. Remember? That's what oi
came over here for. We should be plaaaastered boi now and foighting arf a couple of young nymphs
so we can concentrate on the very impaartant matter of drinkin' even more heavily."
"Yeh, OK Seamus," said Walter. "I'm just a bit tired that's all."
"A bit toired you say? You've done nothing but sit in dat chair and whinge loik an owld woman with
arthritis since oi got here. For feck's sake man. What is the matter with ya?"
"Just a woman that's all," Walter finally confessed.
"A WOMAN!! Jeeesus. Hello? Is dat you in dere, Walter? A woman? Since when were you ever
affected boy a woman?"
"Get lost, Seamus. She's different."
"Different is she? How's dat den? She have t'ree breasts or something?"
Walter sat up in his chair for the first time in a long time, apathy giving way to anger. Seamus sensed
he was getting a reaction and pressed on with his questioning.
"Not t'ree breasts? What was it den, me little pal, was she really a feller?"
With that Walter leapt from his chair and grabbing Seamus by the throat, he shoved him backwards,
eyes wide and blazing with anger. Seamus raised his eyebrows and his hands in a gesture of appeasement
and then spoke with what voice he could muster with his throat held.
"Dat's it, Walter, you get angry now. Dat's it pal. Take a shot if ya want to. Come on Walter. Come
back to us."
Walter listened to Seamus' words as if he was standing at the other side of the room. His rage had
temporarily removed him from 'himself' and it felt like he was watching the scene as a spectator. Slowly,
as the words sank in, Walter felt himself shifitng back into his body. He could see Seamus' face in front
of him and he slowly released his grip, then fell to his knees and began to sob.
"I bloody love her, mate, that's all," he managed to get out between big sobs. "I bloody LOVE her."
Seamus put his hand on the back of Walter's shoulders and gave them a rub.
"Oi know ya do, Walt, Oi know you do. Gary told me all about it. But ya need to get it out, pal.
Ya can't go bottlin' it up loike dat. Here, take a swig o' dis," Seamus handed Walter a thimble full
of Guinness. "Come on, pal. We need to get you out on the town. We need the old Walter back. What time
is Gary coming over?"
No sooner did Seamus speak, when in walked Gary with three rather beautiful flower fairies accompanying him.
"Girls, meet Seamus all the way over from Ireland," Gary introduced them. "Seamus, this is Rosie, Tulip
and Violet, some old 'friends' of Walter."
Seamus took each of the pretty fairies in turn by the hand and kissed their wrists with a charming
flourish which made them giggle and smile knowingly at one another. The girls then turned their attention
to Walter, who was a very sorry sight compared to when any of them had seen him before.
"Walter's been a bit off-colour ladies," Seamus quickly said, "But you're feeling a bit better now,
aren't you pal? Go get yourself washed, Walt, and Gary and I will keep these t'ree warm for ya." The
three fairies giggled again at Seamus' brash forwardness.
As Walter wandered off to scrub up for the night out, Seamus used his blarney to keep the others entertained.
"Gary, did oi ever tell ya 'bout the god dey used to worship in Ireland in the old days?"
"I'm sorry, the what? The god, did you say? But I thought you said that ...."
"Now now, Gary, never moind 'bout what oi said. Oi'll tell you a tale about the old days, when loife was
much simpler. Dis is one me mammy used to tell me when oi was knee high to a grasshopper."
"You're knee high to a grasshopper now, Seamus."
"Aaaah, yes, dis was a baby grasshopper. Anyways. In dem days, the ancestors used to worship a god called
Lugh. A moighty warrior, he carried a spear and sling and had a magical hound as his companion."
Seamus' lyrical Irish brogue and flamboyant enthusiasm for the tale immediately had the four listeners gripped.
Leprechaun Page 2 >>
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