Pot o' Gold
by Kell Inkston
“So, what
is inside this bush?” Marian asks
with a pointed glare.
The minuscule
Irishman wearing green, clenches his teeth into
the form of a huge, nervous smile. “Oh, dear
lassy, tain’t a thing but ye barbs and ye
thorns. Ye best be on your way.”
The lady, a
pro at spotting liars, draws back with a
condescending gaze and a winner’s smirk.
“Oh? Not a pot of gold?”
“N-no,
lassy, where ever did you get such a silly idea?”
“Come on,”
she rolls her eyes, “it’s Saint Pat’s
day, you’re a short green man with one of
those stupid buckle hats- you’re obviously a
leprechaun.” She starts moving to the side,
and he quickly meets her.
“Ahh, yes!
I’m dressed this way for me… me wee mum,
she loves the color green… and buckle hats.”
“Mmm, you’re
hiding something.”
“I
certainly am not!”
“Yeah
good one, so how do I get the pot of gold? Do I
just grab it? Or do I sing some song? This is my
first time finding one.”
“N-no,
lassie please hear me out.”
She pushes him
aside and goes for the thick green brush. “Thanks,
but I’m too lucky to stop now.” She
says right before she walks into the giant void
leading to the Irish slave mines.
The little
green man chuckles. “Works every time.”
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