Lethal Leprechaun
By MITCHELL HARGREAVES
ALGONQUIN—Small, well-dressed Irish men in plain green suits are celebrated for their generosity to any who can catch them. But in the small village of Algonquin, this affable altruism has been replaced with refractory ravaging.
For Mitchell Hargreaves, 16, leprechaun belligerence has become an accepted part of his life.
“Most people see leprechauns as rich white kids. They might mouth you a bit, but their pocketbook is yours if you can charm,” says Hargreaves.
Sadly for him, leprechaun punctilios did nothing to starve the unleashed anguish of the fairy man. “I watched him smoking his pot of gold under the rainbow before I snatched him up in a red balloon. I thought the hard part was over,” explained Hargreaves.
The green guy, however, continued his animosity towards Hargreaves, forcing the capturer to cage the beast in the microwave.
“His histrionics were laughable, at the time,” reminisced Hargreaves. “Sawing off toes, hammering knees, and bashing-out brains seemed somehow comical coming from the little guy.”
But when the stumpy O’Tool began to shed tears, Hargreaves could bear it no longer. “I let him out,” he admitted. “I never could stand to hear a man, six feet or six inches, sobbing.”
Hargreaves paid dearly for that concession. Upon opening the microwave door, he was greeted by gold knuckles. “I still have the teeth he punched out,” considered Hargreaves. “They’re nefarious reminders, but I’ve yet to work up the kahoonas to put them under my pillow.”
Hargreaves was beaten and bloodied, with his confidence, consciousness and piggy bank taken. “I was in the black for three days, doctors tell me. It wasn’t pretty, and they said I’d probably die, but I pulled through.”
The boy’s father, Richard Hargreaves, is a secondary school teacher. Although distraught by his son’s condition, he was similarly upset by the disintegration of leprechaun-human relations. “In my day, a leprechaun was your hip midget friend. Today, that same midget will eviscerate you after filching your checkbook,” conceded Richard. “I just find myself questioning the whole multiculturalism thing, that’s all.”
A psychiatric counselor and generally good mother to Mitchell Hargreaves, Marion Hargreaves, was also steaming about the incident saying, “That’s the last time that chump will ever visit. My floors were spotless before St. Patrick scuffed them up. Never again, I say.”
“All I wanted was a dream to come true,” lamented Hargreaves. “Instead, I was painted black and blue.”
Posted 11 SEP 04 in Fantastic Fiction
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