As those of you who follow this blog know, one of my dearest friends is Seamus, Maine’s lone Leprechaun. I’ve written several posts about my little friend with the pot of gold, and we really bonded this year over our love of Notre Dame Football.
When I last wrote about Seamus (here’s that post), he was passed out in my bathroom after the BCS Championship Game. At the time, I thought that he had just gone on a wild bender because our beloved Fighting Irish had gotten their butts handed to them on the gridiron, but after our conversation today, I realize that my friend had something much more troubling on his mind. I wish he had come to me sooner, so that I could’ve done something to help him deal with the pain.
It turns out that poor Seamus had been the victim of a cruel hoax perpetrated by heartless people with dark souls who are destined to spend eternity in a place much hotter than Maine. I confirmed their afterlife destination with The Devil, who as you all know, is a frequent guest at The House on the Hill.
Like any other young, strapping Irishman, Seamus has a soft spot for the ladies. Being the only one of his kind in the entire state of Maine meant for many a lonely night for my friend. Sure, there were other beings that tickled his fancy and occasionally got to tickle his trusty shillelagh as well, but Seamus had his heart set on falling in love with another Leprechaun. Preferably a Leprechaun from his native Emerald Isle.
“It all started over the summer,” Seamus explained as he sat on the couch sipping his pint. “I had signed up for the Under the Rainbow, which is an online dating site for Leprechauns, but I hadn’t had me much luck. Not many lasses were willing to travel to Maine for a date. I was more than willing to go to them, but it’s a right pain in the arse lugging that pot of gold around and getting it through airport security.”
He pointed to the giant pot, overflowing with gold coins, that sat in the middle of the living room. Of course, this now meant that a giant rainbow was up above my house. I’m sure it was driving Gary the Gargoyle crazy as he loved to fly up and try to sit on it.
“Then, as if St, Paddy himself had deigned to answer me prayers, she started to write to me,” Seamus’ eyes lit up at this point and he pulled a photo from his pocket and handed it to me (I will post a copy to the left of this paragraph). “Wasn’t she a sight for sore, bloodshot eyes? Not only was she fancying me, but she was also from County Cork, which is back in me beloved Ireland, as you know.”
“We talked all the time,” Seamus continued after finishing his pint and then running off to the kitchen for a refill (he’s an excellent guest as he brings his own beer and mugs). “Me cell phone was blowing up with texts and calls from her. We made plans for me to go back home to see her, and she talked about coming here if she could find someone to watch her gold for her.”
I could tell by the way my friend was shaking, which was a totally different way from how he shook when he’s been drinking, that sharing this tale was difficult for him. I knew that good news was not forthcoming.
“That’s when it started to get weird,” he whispered and leaned on his shillelagh for support even though he was seated on the couch. “Siobhan, that was her name…a fine Irish name is there ever was one…started telling me tales of goblins and ogres trying to get to her gold. She asked me if I’d be willing to help buy them off. Of course, me first reaction was one of suspicion, but I used to work in the old country, and I know what it’s like there. The creatures come out of the mist, they know a Leprechaun is an easy mark one they find its lair and where the gold is hidden. The best thing to do is pay off the creatures and get them to give up and go away.”
Did he send her any money? “I was born at night, laddie, but not last night,” he replied with a wink and a bit of a sparkle in his sad eyes. “I offered to send some of me cousins out to look after her, but once I’d done that, the problem had magically vanished. Now me, wanting to accept she was on the straight and narrow, was willing to believe that.”
At this point, I had to excuse myself and grab a pint. I knew where this story was headed, and I was aware that the words “happily ever after” would not be a part of the tale.
“Worrying about her, I offered time and again to go visit her,” Seamus continued once I’d settled back in with my beer. “I was so worried desperate to set my Irish eyes upon her, that I was willing to deal with the entire TSA and purchase a private jet to haul me gold across the pond. But she wouldn’t have it. She said it wasn’t safe, and she was too scared, and that she wanted to come to see me. I was over the moon at the news! Another Leprechaun in Maine. That would be a wicked pissah! There was catch. She didn’t have the money for a ticket. Could I send it to her, and then she’s buy her ticket and arrange for another Leprechaun to watch her gold. She’d pay me back as soon as she could.”
He paused for a very long sip of his beer here and then let out a mighty belch that rattled my windows and made the room smell like corned beef. “I said it was nonsense and I’d just arrange for her tickets with me Aer Lingus frequent flyer miles. It was love, and I wanted to make all the arrangements and fly her here in style. She fought this idea at first, insisting she couldn’t put me out, but then she finally relented. Me heart jumped right out of me chest when she said it. I bought the tickets and she was prepared to fly here just in time for the big football game. I was going to bring her here to meet you and the rest of me mates. It was going to be perfect.”
Seamus’ face darkened at this point, and he started to tap his shillelagh nervously against my hardwood floor. “The night before she was supposed to fly here, I got the call,” he said in his gravest voice. “A pack of Wraiths had set upon Siobhan, forced her to lead them to her gold, and then they…they…killed her.”
Seamus wept. Other than the night of the BCS Championship Game, I had never seen this proud, feisty being shed a tear. Now he wailed like a teething infant. “The call came from a total stranger. But he knew all about us, said that Siobhan had told him that if anything had ever happened to her, he was to call me and let me know. He asked me if I could wire some money to make sure what was left of my Siobhan received a proper burial.”
I was crying at this point. I’m a hopeless romantic, and even if I weren’t, I still had a heart and a soul. This was emotional, tear-worthy stuff.
“So I sent the money. More than was needed,” he told me through the sobs. “I told him to buy the finest headstone and commission a bronze statue. All I asked was that he send me some pictures as the family wanted it to be a private ceremony, and I was just a stranger to them. I should’ve known then, but how could I? Why would I? I was a mess.”
I did my best to comfort my friend. I refilled his pint. And then filled it again. Finally, he was ready to finish his story. “Then last night, me phone rings. I’m still on a bit of a bender, so I almost ignored it, but I see that it’s her number. And it was her on the phone. She laughed at me, thanked me for the money, called me a sucker and then hung up on me. I called back a dozen times, but she didn’t answer. Finally, she sent a text. It told me to quit while I was ahead, forget I’d ever known her, and consider myself lucky she’d only gotten the little out of me that she did.”
“Can you believe it, laddie?” he asked in the monotone voice of one who had resigned himself to never loving again. “All those months of fiddling with me heart, just to get some gold out of me. Why not just rob a bank? You’d get more money in far less the time.”
That’s when I had to give him the bad news. I explained that people like Siobhan cared more about the thrill of messing with someone than they did about the payoff. She got off on knowing that Seamus was falling for her and that she had him wrapped around her finger. The truth of it all was, she had finally gotten bored with him, and had decided to write him off and move on to the next poor sucker who caught her eye.
While that didn’t help my friend much, it did give him a sense of closure. I also promised to bring our Alien friends, who worked miracles with IT issues, into the situation to hunt down Siobhan and her cohorts. This perked up Seamus way more than I expected. Apparently, revenge is a real pick me up for Leprechauns who’ve been wronged.
What do you think about all this, Modern Philosophers? Can you believe that there are people out there who would do such a heartless thing? Why do people prey on others like this? Have you ever been the victim of such a hoax? Would you ever be stupid enough to cross a Leprechaun…especially one that you knew lived in Maine and had otherworldly friends who would really mess you up once they got their hands, claws, wings, fangs, tentacles, etc on you?
I look forward to hearing from you on this one because I’d love someone to explain to me why the world is this cruel…