Luck Of The Irish

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Luck Of The Irish

Top of the morning to ye,' said a voice.

Patrick moaned. Why the hell had he the drink taken? But what else could a fellow to do when his wife walked out on him for a wee boyo half her age, his boss said there was no more work and each horse he backed had three legs?

`Have you no manners then?' continued the voice.

Patrick opened one eye. There squatting on his table, next to the empty whisky bottle, was a little green man.

`Oh Lord, now I'm seeing things,' he moaned.

`Don't look at me that way you daft creature, have you never seen a leprechaun before?' queried the green apparition.

`Away you wee devil,' snarled Patrick.

`Come now, don't be like that! Help me and I'll help you. Have you forgotten how it goes? You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.'

`Ah, get back in the whisky bottle.'

`I hear you're an expert with glass, am I right?'

`Right, that's my trade.'

`Well now, I'm after a small, circular piece of bulletproof glass, about as big as the saucer your mammy used to sup her tea from. That shouldn't be beyond you.'

Patrick pulled himself up off the couch. Perhaps it would be wise to humour the wee fellow. In the shed he rummaged about until he found what was wanted.

`Will this do?'

`Perfect boyo! Now come with me and I'll show you what to do with it.'

Quick as a wink Patrick found himself standing beside the local traffic light. Broken green glass crunched under his feet as he stretched up to see what was wrong.

`Don't stand there gawping like an idiot,' said the little green man. `Just hoist me back in to my nice little cave, shove the glass across the entrance and everything'll be hunky dory again.'

And to make sure that he was obeyed the little creature, who was standing on Patrick's shoulder, pinched him sharply on the ear.

That did it! Patrick grabbed the manikin by the waist, pushed him into empty socket and sealed him in permanently. As he stepped back he saw the little man's mouth moving ten to the dozen. He strained his ears to make sense of the muffled words that came from behind the glass.

"You'll soon see that I keep my promises boyo, you mark my words. Before very long you're going to meet the lass of your dreams, your boss will have another big job coming up and there'll be jobs galore for you again, and, since it's traditional for good luck to run in threes, be sure that you back Blarney Stone in the two o'clock at Ellerslie next Saturday.'

`And to you too,' grinned Patrick

`Excuse me,' said a female voice.

Patrick swung round in surprise. Behind him stood a beautiful, dark haired colleen. Her eyes were as green as the soft grass of Ireland. In her hand she held a black, shiny shoe with a broken heel.

`Do you think you could fix my heel?' she asked. `I can't walk with it like this.'

`No trouble at all,' said Patrick, with a grin, as he gave her his arm.