The Curse of The Irish

Today’s just like any other regular day. I get up from my bed, after being rudely awaken by my phone’s annoying ringtone to go to the bathroom, to take a hot shower, brush my teeth and shave, then finally making a quick breakfast of scramble eggs and coffee. As I don my work attire, vest and name tag, to work at the super-market, I hear my doorbell ring. Placing the vest on my kitchen table, I walk over to the door to see who could possibly be coming to my house this early in the morning.

Opening the door, I expect the postal or FedEx worker, but instead I find nothing as if they just vanish. Shrugging my shoulders, I close the door and suddenly refuses to close all the way. I look down to find the cause of it and find a box in the doorway, what the heck was it? A small box in brown package wrapping, about the size of a small doughnut box. Picking it up, I find that there’s no return address. The person who sent it must have written it down somewhere else on the box, so I scan it over like finding the Waldo of addresses. Unfortunately, there is none to be found.

I place the box on the kitchen table and sit on one of the chairs, to face it and ponder where it might have come from. I know I didn’t order anything from Amazon, since I don’t have the extra cash to do online shopping. Maybe one of my co-workers sent a box as a prank, but I don’t really talk to them, or customers, because I focus on just stocking and restocking the shelves and mopping the floors. Could it be a bomb? Nah, I don’t think I would be a terrorist group’s primary target. So, if it’s not Amazon or some jokester or a yet-to-be-proven bomb, what could the box be?

Walking over to my utensil drawer, I open it to pull out one of my sharp knives and walk back to the box. Like the professional stocker that I am, I flip it to where the tape is and cut down in a straight line and then the tape the holds the four sides together. I then pull open the four sides of the box’s top and what I find is probably the most strangest gifts I ever receive. It’s a lawn gnome, only it’s not a gnome but a leprechaun. A ceramic leprechaun wearing a green pilgrim suit, black shoes and a green bowler hat with a black belt wrapping around the top. It has a pipe in its mouth, which is showing off a cheeky smirk as though it’s letting me know that it expected my reaction. My reaction is just a look of witnessing something strange. Taking it out of the box, a part of me wants to let it drop and break, yet for some reason I decide to put it on the table and precede to put on my vest. When I clip the last button, I hear a Scottish voice saying:

“Ah, thank you so much, you have no idea how cramped that box was.” Spinning around I see the leprechaun that’s supposed to be made of clay and glaze, yet is alive and smirking with his pipe producing smoke.

“Top of the morning to you laddie.” It says lifting it’s hat and placing back on his head. I then release my shock in the form of a scream, stumbling backwards to get out of its kill zone, I have seen Chucky.

“Quit your screaming! You ain’t a banshee!” It says while covering its ears.

“What the Hell! Why am I seeing a leprechaun on my table?!” I loudly ask myself, noticing I’m talking out loud.

“Because I’m real.” Its smirk widens to a mischievous smile

“No you’re not, you’re a hallucination from the long night-shifts… and living alone. Quarantine has made everyone a little crazy looking for company.”

“Oh really? Can a wee hallucination do this?” The leprechaun precedes to do a river dance around my table, doing so for a couple of laps. It then jumps up in the air and lands on the table while doing a pose. Slowly I sit back on the chair, shaken but trying to calm down to process what I just witness.

“So, you really are a leprechaun?” I ask it.

“Absolutely!” it says while clicking its heels.

“And you’re here because...”

“To offer you this one chance to give you me pot of gold!”

“Wait, I thought leprechauns protect their gold and trick people who want to take it?”

“Oh that’s the old ways, this is the twenty-first century. We modern leprechauns just love to give our gold to the lucky few, and you my boy are very lucky.”

“I am?”

"Yes sir, my pot of gold is yours to keep. All you have to do is shake my hand and it’s yours!” That’s when the red flags raise themselves in my mind.

“Yeah no, I’ve seen plenty of shows to know where this is going.” I say getting up and pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?” It asks me.

“Calling the cops, to let them know there’s an intruder in my house with a scam.” I tell it.

“You sure you want to do that? I may be just a wee leprechaun, but even I know anyone, even the police, would find that hard to believe.”

I almost made a rebuttal, but I realize the leprechaun is right.

“Touché.” I say putting my phone away. I’m in a real pickle, I’m a talking leprechaun lawn ornament and I don’t think anyone’s gonna believe me. This is quite a confusing and stressful situation.

“I get it.” It says trying to ease my stress “Its shady to deal with a fantasy creature, but I swear on me lucky shoes that I am here to offer you my pot of gold, and to prove it to you.” It sticks his hand in its right pocket and pulls out a gold coin, flicking it in the air towards me. Catching it in my hand, I take a closer look at it. It feels like a real gold coin, in its center is a three-way barrier with three runes in each space. I then test its durability by biting into it, it feels like munching on a flat rock. I don’t know why people do that, it’s something I’ve seen in movies. I then try to bend it with my teeth, but there is no bending nor cracking. Pulling it out of my mouth I begin to realize it.

“Its real.” I say as I feel a grin creeping on my face “Its real!”

“Aye.” It confirms. “And there’s plenty more where that came from, when you shake my wee little hand.”

“Getting real gold! I’m gonna be rich!” I shout as I shake his hand without hesitation. But the flash comes out of his eyes and everything went black. I begin to wake up, blinking and coming to like I had been in a coma and felling a little lost. That’s when I notice this middle-aged man in a tan coat standing in my kitchen.

“Ah! Who are you?! How did you get in here?! If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops! In fact, I’m gonna do it right now!” I reach for my phone but I didn’t feel it in my pocket. I turn to see my pocket, but instead of a pocket of a pair of blue jeans, it’s a pair of green pants. I then notice that I’m wearing black shoes, then turning to face a wall mirror I finally see what happened. I become the leprechaun!

“AH!” I scream “What, what’s happening to me?!” I then remember the intruder and turn to confront him. He’s patting himself like he hasn’t done it for years.

“I’m free.” He says “I’m free! Ha! ha! I’m finally free!”

“Free? Free from what?” I ask the strange intruder, he turns to finally acknowledge my presence.

“Oh right, I forgot about you.” He takes in a breath before speaking again “Okay so, you know the phrase of the luck of the Irish? Well, this is the curse of the Irish.”

“Curse!”

“Yeah curse, see it’s like this, when someone gets trapped by the lawn ornament, they need to get someone to take their place, but they can’t do that unless they’re inside a building, because that’s how they can move. And for three months I couldn’t get anyone to take my offer they just either put me back in the box and ship me away to another address, that is until I reached to your door.”

“But I don’t want to be a leprechaun, take it back!”

“I can’t, even if I want to, which I don’t, it’s a done deal. No take backs, no negotiations, the only way to get you back to normal is to get someone to take your place.”

I can’t believe what’s happening to me, I was promised to be rich, only to turn into a lawn trinket.

“Here, let me help you get started.” The man says as he picks me and the box.

“Hey, let me go! Let me go! Help! Someone hel-” I didn’t finish my cry when we step outside my house, because I became stiff and got to the position where I first seen the leprechaun. The man carefully puts me the box.

“Hopefully you don’t go through this hell for three months like me. Good luck.” He closes the box, closing off the light of the day, closing off my freedom. Is he gonna take my job, my home, my bills… Hey… where’s the gold?