Pete Jones and the Demon of Greed

It was a rainy day as 22-year-old entrepreneur, Pete Jones, hailed a cab back to his Boston apartment.

“Where ya headin’, khed?” asked the cabby.

“The Neck, Oak Street please,” said Pete, his thoughts still 20 floors up in the intimidating investment office he just came from.

Pete kept replaying the last few hours, wondering at what point he lost the room. Meeting after meeting, it has been months of rejection.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Pete asked the cabby.

“Shoot.” Replied the cabby.

“Do you like memes?” asked Pete.

“Ya, man! Love ‘em!” said the cabby enthusiastically. “You seen that one with the chick and the cat? HAHA, gets me every time!” he added, slapping his knee in amusement.

“I’ve been to a lot of investment meetings and haven’t gotten a single offer yet. I want to open a ‘Meme-porium’. You know, a store for all things ‘memes’?” Pete said.

“No suh!” said the cabby. “Those guys are wicked chowdaheads! Don’t listen to ‘em, khed. Keep your chin up!”

The rain was starting to subside. The sun peaked through the clouds as they approached Beacon Hill. Pete thought he needed some fresh air and asked the cabby to pull over so he could walk the rest of the way. Pete paid the cabby and thanked him for listening.

Pete started to make his way home. The rain had cleared. There was a rainbow gleaming in the sky above Pete, renewing his hopes for his “meme dream” as he walked along the Freedom Trail toward Monument Square.

“Hey, I think the end of the rainbow is right up ahead.” Pete thought to himself, picking up the pace, keeping his eyes on the sky. “I’ve never actually seen where a rainbow ends, maybe it will bring me luck-- ARRRRGHHH” Pete said to himself before tripping over what he assumed was a rock in the pathway.

It took Pete a moment to get reoriented. He looked around to see what he had tripped on and found himself staring into the largest pair of green eyes he had ever seen. Pete, assuming that he must still be unconscious from the fall, rubbed his eyes and pinched his arm, refusing to believe the sight in front of him. The big green eyes were attached to a small man dressed in an emerald green suit and top hat with fiery orange tufts of hair poking through the bottom of the hat. “Is that a four-leaf clover in his jacket pocket?” Pete thought in disbelief.

“Leprechauns are not real,” Pete said aloud, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Right?”

Pete stared at the wee man dressed all in green and said, “Pardon me, sir”.

The leprechaun, as if realizing for the first time that Pete was staring at him, said, “Oi, watch where you’re goin’ laddie. I’m late for a particularly importan’ meetin’.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, the leprechaun was gone. Pete picked himself up from the ground, straightened his suit, and looked around for a trace of the bizarre interaction that had just occurred. He noticed a little black leather-bound book on the concrete path. As he reached down for the book, he noticed a gold, embossed shamrock on the cover. Pete began thumbing through the notebook and noticing how soft and luxurious it felt in his hands. On every page, there was a name, an amount, number of years and what appeared to be meeting details, all listed above a signature in gold ink at the bottom of each page. Pete looked around again and saw a small group of tourists heading toward him. He tucked the book into his pocket and ran the rest of the way home.

As soon as Pete returned to his apartment, he quickly locked the door behind him. Then, he removed the book from the safety of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. He was mesmerized by the smoothness of the quality leather between his fingers. Pete opened the book again and began reading through the pages. A huge smile spread across Pete’s face; he could hardly remember the disappointment he was feeling a few hours before. Pete had no idea what the book was, but he had a feeling that it was unbelievably valuable.

Upon further inspection of the pages, Pete discovered that he recognized several of the names as some of the richest people in America. Pete thought, “I wonder what a leprechaun has to do with Forbes 400? Very peculiar, indeed.” Zzzzzz.

*CRASH*

Pete awoke with a start. The potted plant that he keeps in front of the window had smashed onto the floor.

Pete looked around the dark apartment for the source of the commotion. In the corner of his living room, next to a pile of dirt, leaves and broken clay, Pete saw a familiar set of menacing emerald eyes getting bigger and bigger as they approached him.

“Oi! Nobody steals from Finnigan McGreedy and gets away with it, boyo!” exclaimed the leprechaun as he lunged forward at the book in Pete’s hand.

Pete quickly tucked the book under his shirt and threw his hand out to stiff-arm Finnigan as he jumped toward Pete to grab the little black book.

“Now, wait just a minute! I didn’t steal anything! I simply picked up this book that YOU carelessly dropped. Finders keepers and all that,” Pete replied sourly.

“Well, it wouldn’t have fallen from my pocket if you hadn’t tripped over me, boyo.” Finnigan stated matter-of-factly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I mean you no harm. Please, I swear! Can we just talk for a minute? I have so many questions! And please, call me Pete.” said Pete, the excitement rising in his voice.

Finnigan looked down at a watch on his wrist and said quickly, “Alright, Pete. Ten minutes before my next meeting.”

“So, leprechauns are real, huh?” asked Pete.

Pausing for a moment, Finnigan replied, “As you call ‘em, aye.”

“What would you call them then?” Pete could feel his curiosity building.

“Listen, you look like a nice enough guy and I’m short on time, so, I’m just going to level with you. I’m actually a demon of greed making deals on behalf of the Devil for human souls” he said plainly and no longer speaking with an Irish accent, “but saying that tends to make your kind a bit flighty,” He added with a chuckle.

Pete was in shock.

“Leprechauns are just a myth we made up to entrap the greedy souls who would go searching for treasure at the end of a rainbow. But now we look like this more so out of habit. Humans come freely to sell their souls in exchange for success. Perhaps a little too freely, am I right?” Finnigan said as he playfully jabbed his elbow toward Pete.

Pete stared at him in disbelief, his jaw halfway to the floor.

“Are we cool? Can I get my contracts back now?” Finnigan added acting rather cavalier. Several moments of silence passed before Pete managed to speak.

“IS YOUR NAME EVEN FINNIGAN?!” Pete blurted out incredulously.

“Yes, Finnigan is my name but you can call me Finn. Now, I’ve really got to get going. If you’ll just hand over those contracts, I’ll get out of your hair.” Finn said charmingly.

Finn’s words brought a sobering fact to the forefront of Pete’s thoughts, “once I give him this book, he will be gone forever. Will any of this have even been real?”

“No.” Pete said weakly.

“No?” Finn asked, looking confused.

“No.” Pete said again, this time, more firmly. “I’m not ready to give it back yet. If you have elsewhere to be, you’ll simply have to take me with you.”

Finn was dumbfounded. It took him a second to recover, before saying “As you wish…” He then, grabbed Pete’s arm whisking him out the same window that Finn had entered through fifteen minutes earlier.

Finn whooshed Pete through the city, zooming faster than the T. Just when Pete thought he was going to be sick; they stopped outside of a shabby looking apartment building.

“This meeting is with a new potential. So, you need to wait out here. I can’t have you ruining this deal. Gotta keep the boss happy, you know?” Before Pete could even respond, Finn had gone through the window and into the apartment.

Luckily, the apartment was on the first floor. Pete crouched behind some bushes giving him a clear view of the scene unfolding inside.

“Wait a minute” Pete thought. “I think I know that guy. Why does he look so familiar?”. Pete said to himself.

“I’ve got this idea, man. It’s a real money-maker. The best part? I’ll never have to drive that cab again!!”

“There’s something about that voice”, thought Pete.

“Picture this: A ‘meme-porium’. The one stop shop for all things memes.” The man said enthusiastically.

Pete’s stomach fell through his backside. “Oh my god. No, no, noooooooo! It’s the cabby from earlier. But that’s MY idea!!!” Pete was frantic.

“Pssssst. Finn….” Pete was desperately trying to get Finn’s attention.

“Errrrrm, give me just a tick, laddie. I’m training the new guy,” Finn said to the cabby before sticking his head out the window where Pete was.

“What is it?! I told you not to mess up this deal for me!” Finn was very annoyed.

“But Finn, you don’t understand! That’s MY idea. I was in that guy’s cab today and I told him about my idea but he’s telling you it was his! He CANNOT become rich and famous from MY idea. PLEASE FINN!? THIS IS MY ONE SHOT” Pete pleaded.

“Listen, Pete. I get it. But my business is trading success for souls. So, unless you want to sign the contract yourself, I’m afraid there isn’t much that I can do.” Finn said with regret.

Pete thought about this for a long time. “Creating the ‘Meme-porium’ is my one and only dream.” Thought Pete. “But I can’t sell my soul to make it happen, right? Hmmm. Do I even need a soul?” Pete’s thoughts were spinning until the silence suddenly was broken.

“Alright cool, so… Where do I sign?” the cabby called to Finn.

“What’s it going to be, Pete?” Finn asked Pete impatiently.

“Here you go, Finn. I’ll just be on my way so you can focus on your work.” Pete replied sadly as he handed the contract book back to its owner and headed off into the night.

Pete was grateful for the long walk home so he could wallow in his disappointment. He was devastated that someone else was going to profit from HIS idea. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep his soul; all he knew was that he was elated it still belonged to him. So, Pete tried to focus on that.

By the time Pete returned to his apartment, he was exhausted. The only remnant from his unbelievable night, was the potted plant mess on the floor by the window. He cleaned up the heap before heading to bed.

The next morning when Pete woke, he convinced himself that when he tripped in Monument Square yesterday, he got a concussion and Finnigan McGreedy was just a dream. Pete was rubbing his eyes, still half asleep, as he walked into his kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. There was a bright gleaming in the corner of the living room that caught Pete’s attention. Pete rubbed his eyes again.

*Blink, Blink*

Pete set his coffee down on the countertop and ran to the window. There, he found a leprechaun’s pot of gold with $20,000 cash inside, and a note attached.

“Pete,

Never give up on your dreams. Please use this cash for your startup. No strings, this one’s on the house (just don’t tell the Boss).

Your friend,

Finn”