The Little Man in the Red Coat
by Greg Jackson
Copyright 2014 by Greg Jackson
It was nearing St. Patrick’s Day and the city of Boston was gearing up for the usual celebrations. The beer on tap was being dyed green and everything had a hum of excitement to it as the workday came to a close.
Brandon took some time off from Hooligan’s Pub to spend with his fiancé, Brooke. She seemed to have it in her head that finding a four-leaf clover on this day brought nothing but good luck to a new couple. And working at Hooligan’s, he realized that rituals and superstitions were not to be messed with so he nodded and agreed to go on their hunt.
They walked slowly into the Allandale Woods and followed the winding trails, looking at each little piece of moss and grass hoping to find that four-leaf clover that would change their lives.
“They don’t exist.” Brandon said.
“Maybe I just want to hunt with the idiot I love, you ever think about that?”
She grabbed his hand and they made their way farther into the woods, where the Oak and Hickory shielded them from the light. Brandon felt Brooke’s grip tightening as they delved deeper into the forest.
“I don’t see anything but moss.” Brandon said.
“You have to look!” She said, pulling him in to kiss him. “I love you and thank you for doing this. I know you think I’m retarded.”
“No, it’s kind of sweet.” He finally said.
“Good, because I would have kicked your ass. And I bet you would never say that around actual people.”
The silence of the woods turned slowly into a light banging somewhere off to their left.
“Do you hear that?” Brooke asked.
“You wanted to come in here.” He said. “If we get eaten by Bigfoot, it’s your fault.”
“Shut up, listen!” She said, shushing him.
The banging echoed in its monotone cadence, stopping momentarily and then starting again. They both knew that they were far enough into the woods that hearing noises from the surrounding streets wasn’t possible. No, there was something in the woods with them.
“I’m a little freaked out.” Brooke said, squeezing his hand hard.
Brandon pulled her in the direction of the pounding.
“Brandon, you don’t have to act all brave. You covered your eyes when we watched Paranormal Activity.”
“That hot, possessed girl freaked me out. Quiet.” He said as he walked towards the noise. When the banging finally stopped they took a deep breath and laughed the nerves off. But the brush started moving, as if something was running towards them.
“Run!” Brooke said, pulling on Brandon. They heard a little grunt and Brandon was hit in the head with something. He screamed like a girl and when they looked down they saw a small leather shoe lying in the brush.
“What the hell is that?” Brandon asked.
“Someone hit you with a tiny shoe!” She laughed. “Did you set this up to mess with me?”
“No. I don’t know any toddlers.”
Brooke bent down to pick it up. As she did, a little bearded man in a red coat and hat jumped up and tackled her. His little body sat on her chest and she looked immediately at his hands with wide eyes, which were strangely planted on her breasts.
“Brooke!” Brandon said, running over to them.
“Stop!” The little man with the helium voice said as Brandon’s eyes widened.
“Are you…a…” Brandon started.
“Leprechaun.” He said. “Yes. My name is Seamus and you are trespassing in my woods.”
“A leprechaun is feeling me up?!” Brooke yelled, pushing the little man off of her. “Pervert!”
Seamus took his coned hat off and held it out as protection, getting into attack mode.
“Why are you here?” He asked in his low-end Irish accent.
“Why are you in red?” Brooke asked.
“Read a book!” Seamus said. “Leprechauns wore red, lady. The green thing was made up by someone who thought green looked less evil.”
“And the shoes?” Brandon asked.
“Leprechauns make shoes, Mr. Man.” Seamus said. “It’s what we do. We go through a lot of them trying to find our gold.”
“At…the end of the rainbow.” Brooke said, disbelieving.
“No.” Seamus said. “It was stolen from us. That rainbow crap just pisses me off.”
“Wait.” Brandon said. “I remember an old poster in the bar that says if a leprechaun is caught, we get three wishes.”
“Crap.” Seamus said. “You can’t read a book and your philosophy comes from a bar poster. Wonderful.”
“Is he right?’ Brooke asked the little man, not knowing if she was being scammed by a little lunatic.
“If it gets you out of here, I’ll grant you three wishes so I can finish my shoes.”
“Fine.” Brandon said.
“If you wish for bigger boobs on me, I’ll kick you.” Brooke replied.
“Nah, they’re fine, lass.” Seamus winked.
“Perv.” She smiled, covering her chest. “Fine, I wish that we can close on the house we want.”
“Done.” Seamus said, twinkling his nose. Brooke was fascinated by the fairy dust coming out.
“And I wish to be a part owner of Hooligan’s.” Brandon said.
“Done.” Another twinkle. More dust.
Brooke pulled Brandon aside and whispered to him before turning around to Seamus.
“And our third wish…” She said. “Since I know leprechauns were appointed by St. Patrick himself…”
“Someone reads!” Seamus smiled.
“The third wish is that your gold becomes visible to you. Right here, right now so you can stop running around like a boob-grabbing maniac.”
Seamus cried as he twinkled his nose for the third time. As he did, a golden glow crested the tree line behind him. Everyone’s jaw dropped as Seamus hesitantly cried.
“My gold?” He said as if the hole was filled within his very soul.
“Enjoy your life, Seamus.” Brandon said. “Today was your final gold run.”
Brooke leaned down and kissed Seamus’ wet cheek.
“Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Seamus.” She said as Seamus ran off towards his long-lost pot of gold.
