GETTING THE BOOT: LEPRECHAUN STYLE

Hello, everyone... I've finally been convinced by a certain person in County Cork to write my own blog. Several of you have encouraged me over the years to write a book, but this seems to make more sense, as most of my musings are observational. Since it was the not-so-subtle insistence of this self-described "ordinary Joe" who has finally gotten me off the dime, it seems only fitting that my first post is a story we wrote together, and I hope you enjoy it:

Many people are under the mistaken impression that leprechauns, if they ever actually did exist, are part of Ireland’s past and that they have been relegated to folklore. Those people would be sorely mistaken, for I have it on good authority that, contrary to popular belief, not only are leprechauns still alive and well in Ireland, they are adaptable and thriving. Many have even taught themselves the ways of technology and have changed with the changing world they live in, all the while maintaining the magic that is the mystery of the leprechaun...

A fine example of such evolution can be found in the story of one poor sod who committed the grievous error of betraying a leprechaun’s trust not so very long ago. You see, there was a particular leprechaun who hailed from the County of Cork, and his reputation as a fine graphic artist was known far and wide. Local boat owners and business people flocked to him to have beautiful works of art applied to their boats, vehicles and businesses, and the leprechaun enjoyed a thriving enterprise. Though he was part of the community of The Little People, his honor and integrity were as large as the all outdoors and, thus, he was sought after and trusted implicitly by all who dealt with him.

There was a businessman who believed himself to be above others who lived near this thriving but insular community, and he had heard of the leprechaun’s reputation as a fine artist and a savvy storyteller. The gentleman, who was full of his own importance, was quite wealthy, had several holdings throughout the parish and there beyond, and enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle as a result. He was particularly proud of the car that he drove, a metallic silver Mercedes, and of the boat that he sailed, his pride and joy. It was a large, impressive vessel that he kept at the marina of the local boat club. The man was quite vainglorious about his ability to have acquired both his boat and his car, and he attached great personal importance to himself in having attained such fine possessions and equated same to his position in the community. He made it his business to let everyone know of his achievements in his own tactless and vulgar way.

The man had looked about the marina and had seen the work of the leprechaun artist everywhere, emblazoned on all the fine vessels moored there. Not to be outdone, the man wanted artwork for his own boat, something that would announce to all who saw it that he had “arrived.” And so it was that the man was inspired to contact the talented leprechaun and to engage him in service to provide that statement with the magic that only a leprechaun can. The leprechaun advanced his ideas about a design, the man was thrilled, a barter ensued, a price agreed upon and, as he always did, the leprechaun dispatched the job quickly and professionally. The man had a beautiful piece of original artwork on his vessel by week’s end, and all who beheld it poured forth their compliments to the man for his wise investment. What the people didn’t know is that the man hadn’t actually invested a single coin in the art work for, even though the spectacular results were there for all to see, the man hadn’t paid the leprechaun for his labor. Not a wise thing to do to a leprechaun. Despite billing after billing, the man continued to put off the leprechaun with one excuse after another. Because the leprechaun was a fair-minded, even-tempered sort, he let this go by for a short period of time. But, because he was also no fool, he created the opportunity to approach the man in person at no expense to the man’s personal dignity regarding the outstanding balance, and on more than one occasion, but all to no avail.
Leprechauns have very long and very deep memories; the seed had been set, and this was not over.

Finally, the leprechaun had reached the end of his generosity in the matter and, one afternoon in the car park of the boat club, he confronted the man and demanded fair payment for his labors. The man hemmed, hawed, stammered and backpedaled, and the leprechaun told him this: “Look, you either pay me right now, or I’m going to be forced to take action that I usually don’t, and I am going to have to sort you out!” The man became indignant and demanded to know what the leprechaun meant by such a statement. “You can take that any way you like,” replied the leprechaun, knowing that the man took his full meaning, and yet the man continued to refuse. Without another word, the leprechaun turned on his heel, walked away, tapping the side of his nose, which said, “Wait and see….” The man thought the matter was ended. He got into his beloved Mercedes and sped off, smirkingly convincing himself to his detriment that he had emerged the victor of the skirmish.

Now, not only was the leprechaun talented, fair-minded, even-tempered, dependable and wise, he was an incredibly clever little fellow. When he returned home, he immediately set about to work in his shop, laboring industriously into the night on a very special project. This was a project for which no one had engaged his services, but one that he knew had to be just perfect, nonetheless, as it had a most particular destination. Late into the night he endeavored, carefully designing, cutting, measuring, and working at such a speed that the little strips of gleaming, reflective silver vinyl with which he worked flew all about him as if they had been caught up in a desert scirocco. When he had finished, the leprechaun stood back, folded his arms, assessed what he created and, when he did, he couldn’t help but throw his head back in laughter. He laughed as he turned out the lights of his shop, he laughed as he crossed the gardens to his home, and he laughed as he turned out the lights before taking himself off to leaba. He even chuckled once again as he nestled his head into his pillow before drifting off to dreams. The following day, he dropped round to the car park of the boat club. Since the man spent nearly equal amounts of time in the boat club bar and out on the water in his boat, his car was usually to be found there. He located the man’s car and, working quickly and quietly, he surreptitiously applied the vinyl pieces to the boot of the man’s beloved Mercedes. The color of the vinyl and the paint of the car was such a perfect match that it was impossible to tell that the vinyl was even there. If anyone had watched him, busy at his enterprise, you can be sure that they would have been puzzled, indeed.

Months went by, still no payment was forthcoming from the man, and the leprechaun went quietly about his work, dependably filling orders for people who paid, delighting them with his talents and not letting himself even think about the man in the Mercedes, as he had written the man off as a bad apple and the unpaid balance as a bad debt. So it startled the leprechaun somewhat when he answered his telephone and heard the man’s voice at the other end of the line. “How dare you!?” sputtered the man, “Who do you think you are?!” The leprechaun asked the man, “What are you talking about?” to which the man replied indignantly, “You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Yes, the leprechaun did, and he had to stifle a laugh, as he could picture the steam curling out from under the man’s collar.

You see, the man had discovered quite by accident what the leprechaun had actually done to his Mercedes. As the man came out of the bar of the boat club one night, full of drink, he noticed two young men standing near his car, doubled over with laughter. He asked them what they were laughing at but they were at it with such effort that they were unable to reply, only to point at the boot of the car. The man looked at his car and, in the dim illumination of the parking lot, he saw nothing to inspire hilarity. Perplexed, he inquired again but, still, the two young lads were able only to stagger about holding their bellies and to sag into each other in gales of laughter. Just then, the headlights from a passing car illuminated the boot of the Mercedes. To the man’s horror, as the headlights hit the vinyl, retro-reflective words seemed to appear from out of nowhere: “The man driving this car is a wanker.” The man had driven his Mercedes for nearly four months with these words emblazoned on his car, visible to anyone who would have been driving behind him and illuminating his car with their headlights! With a full head of steam from this discovery, the man now called upon the leprechaun, demanding satisfaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the leprechaun insisted, “but now that I’ve got you on the line, how about that money you owe me?” And before the man could even respond, the leprechaun rightly hung up on him.

Days went by and, when no payment was received, the leprechaun decided to up the ante. Once again, he could be found working late into the night in his workshop, this time designing, cutting and measuring day-glo, cherry-colored pieces of vinyl. And, once again, when he stepped back to assess the end product of his labor, he threw his head back and laughed heartily, laughing all the way across the gardens, into the house, as he turned off the light and as he nestled into his pillow.

As I have mentioned previously, the leprechaun was a clever fellow and, as is the want of all leprechauns, made a study of people as a hobby. He knew that the man went sailing every Saturday and so, waiting until the next Friday, and working under the cover of night, the leprechaun took his punt upriver to the boat club where the man had his luxurious cobalt-blue boat moored. This particular slip had the businessman boarding his boat from the dock on the port side. Pulling up quietly next to the vessel on the starboard side, which faced the river, the leprechaun set about the business of applying his vinyl to the boat, the second of the man’s two most-prized possessions. When he had finished, he quietly pushed the punt away from the boat and turned around to assess his efforts. Satisfied, he engaged the motor, headed out into the dark current, and laughed all the way back down the river to his home.

Sure enough, the very next day as the leprechaun had predicted, the man took his beautiful boat out and sailed it down the river, her starboard side in full view to all structures and personnel on the shore on the way down, and the starboard once again in full view to all the passing boats out in the river on his way back up. He always felt grand while he was aboard her, because she really was a lovely example of yacht design, but he couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her that day. Everywhere she went, he noticed, she drew the particular attention of everyone who beheld her. ”I’ve never seen so many people quite so enthralled with the look of her,” he thought proudly to himself, and allowed himself to be even more puffed up than usual as he rather smugly considered the grandeur of his boat and the reaction that she was engendering.

He sailed all about the harbor, returning the smiles and waves of the people he encountered on the water. As he neared the marina, however, and distance no longer separated him from the people who were looking at his boat, it became apparent that the people who were waving and pointing were, in fact, not cheering him on. No, to the contrary; they were laughing. Laughing! Flustered, the man docked the boat into her slip and, immediately upon having done so, a man in a rib passed by and asked the man why he had all of that lettering plastered on his lovely hull. Hurriedly, the man leaned over the starboard rail. There, against the beautiful, sleek blue of his hull, he read upside down in cherry-red, day-glo letters the words: “This bastard doesn’t pay his bills.” The prat had sailed for over four hours throughout the river and the harbor amongst his peers without a clue as to what he was advertising.

So, as you can see, leprechauns do exist, and you have been warned: Don’t mess with The Little People.

The leprechaun received a check in the next day’s post; and he laughed all the way to the bank.