Pot

There was no doubt. Green clothes? Check. Top hat? Check. Red Beard? Check. Smoking pipe? Check.

It was a leprechaun.

Arnold couldn't believe his change of luck. Things have been going badly for her lately. There were rumors of a Burger King shooting and he knew Mr. Lawson did not like him in the first place. Sally had parted ways with him, revealing that he was tired of the long sea voyage and going to Burger King for discounted food. "I may not think money is the only thing," he said, "but I would like to do something good every once in a while."

And now leprechaun. He sat leaning against a tree watching the sunset smoking his pipe. He was about ten feet [3 m] tall, with all the accouterments of leprechaun

Includes a pot of gold. It was small, about the size of a medium-sized soft drink, but even if it was half full, it would leave Arnold sitting pretty. Gold was gold.

Arnold moved slowly and carefully until he was just a few feet from his hunt. He then charged.

It was easier than he thought. Suddenly he was embracing the young man.

"What the fuck?" Said the young man. In Texas painting.

Arnold quickly abandoned him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought ..." He wondered what he would say that would not make him look crazy.

"You thought I was a leprechaun," the man said.

"Of course ...."

"I am saddened by this," he said. "The guy is trying to figure out his business and the yahoo that saw Leprechaun suddenly takes over his mind to attack me."

"What is a Leprechaun?"

"The worst thing that has happened since Darby O'Gill. Or you haven't heard of that, have you?"

Arnold shook his head.

The man let out a roar. "Now, if you will forgive me ..."

But Arnold had already played the conversation again and was still very suspicious. "What's in the pot?" he asks.

"Which pot?" Arnold noticed that the draw had begun to decline. And, on reflection, it seems very broad, a little obvious.

He grabbed the man by the arm again.

"Hey, you little bitch. What do you think you're doing?"

"I want your pot of gold."

"I told you--"

"I know what you told me. But leprosy is cunning. I want that gold."

The young man struggled, but Arnold was too strong for him. Take a deep breath. "All right," he said. "You can eat what is in the pot."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Gold?"

"Well then," said the young man. "It's gold."

Without releasing the leprechaun, Arnold reached for the lid.

The pot was empty.

"Where's the gold?"

"I haven't filled it in yet," said the leprechaun, whose voice now echoed the Irish lilt.

"Really," said Arnold. "I need that gold. I need it now." He pulled the leprechaun's arm back to the corner of the hammer. "I got it for myself."

He yelled at the old man. "All right. I'll fill it in. But--"

"Now!" Arnold had never felt this way before.

"Whoa! All right. Let me go."

"Can you run then? No."

"But I can't even hold you like this."

It was chaos. Arnold could have abandoned the man or run away. But the leprechaun had to be free to fill its pot. Arnold stretched out his hand and stole the leprechaun pipe.

"Hey," said the young man. "I have had that for a hundred years and it just broke into a good break."

"You'll get it when I get my gold," Arnold said. He let her go. "Now, fill the pot."

The leprechaun sighed. "You're a fine man." He picked up the pot. "Now, if you'll look away for a moment. I need privacy."

Arnold did as he was told.

Behind him, he heard the rumble of the leprechaun, then the mysterious sound of a fart.

Arnold had a bad idea.

"Here it is," said the leprechaun. "Now, give me my pipe."

Arnold looked at the pot. It was full of gold shining like a sunset. But the situation was usually disturbing...

Before he could respond, the leprechaun took his pipe back. "Goodbye boyo. Our party is over." He started walking.

"Do you want a pot?" asked Arnold.

The leprechaun raised his shoulders. "Can you?"