Source: CVDaily Feed

Walt slid down off the bar stool. Could he make it to his horse? Old Joe would take him from Jim’s Bar and keep him on his course.

But, tonight Joe seemed a little off. Was it terror in his eyes or was he just a mite confused? He was in for a surprise.

It was dark. Around the corner, hardly visible to view, something moved and stepped on out. Walt’s eyes got wide and grew.

A tiny man dressed all in green. A vision one would seize. His fitted coat came to his waist. His pants just to his knees.

His shoes were pointed at the toes, his socks stretched to the top. His face was worn and gnarled, below a frizzy, red-haired mop.

His derby hat was just his size. His teeth clenched on a pipe. He smelled of Guinness liquor and his breath was whiskey ripe.

The little guy spoke right up. “O’Shamus is my name. I came from Ireland far away. I hold a certain fame.”

“Some call me by O’Shamus. Most call me Leprechaun. And I can read your thoughts right now. You’d prob’ly like me gone.”

O’Shamus walked toward old Joe. That horse blew out a snort. He pulled straight back and away he flew like old hairs off a wart.

O’Shamus said, “I’m sorry Walt. Looks like your horse is gone. Let’s go back in and have a drink. He won’t be back til dawn.”

Now the leprechaun was full of fun. He showed what he did best. He got some guys to sing along, got drinks for all the rest.

His favorite song was “Danny Boy.” He sang with all his heart. Then ended up with “Galway Bay” and said, “It’s time we part.”

Walt liked the little leprechaun and wished that he would stay. But, the leprechaun had disappeared, left Walt the bill to pay.

The bar keep said “You’ve got no dough? I’ll take your horse and saddle.” Walt almost cried, “I’d be up the creek without a paddle.”

Walt was standin’ in the dark and wonderin’ what to do. He saw old Joe come trottin’ in about as good as new.

He settled with the bar keep and still hung on to Joe, but, lost his saddle and his boots. He’d never felt so low.

Now, if you spy a leprechaun who offers you for a drink. Just turn around and walk away. That leprechaun’s a fink.

By Staff