A Quaint Little Story

Once upon a time,

There was a boy who finished his finals and started Christmas break before all of his friends from other schools. Since his friends from his school don't live close enough to see regularly, he was forced to be bored. They were long, lonely days of internet poker, playing with the animals, downloading music, and basically going insane.

Then one day he was visited by a lepreuchan who told him that he would never be sure that he was spelling leprechaun correctly and also that he was NOT going crazy. This was surprising news to the boy since he had never before in his life seen a leprechaun and was pretty sure they didn't exist. Yet, still, having heard many magical stories about leprechauns, he knew what to do. He shouted that there was a big walrus behind the leprechaun and when the little guy turned in fear to look, the boy grabbed him. The leprechaun was so fucking pissed and bit the boy's hand. The boy dropped the leprechaun and screamed out obsenities. When he looked again, the little green man was gone. The boy was sad and the leprechaun had left a scar on him, literally, the bite marks could be seen for the rest of his life.

When the boy's friends came home from their own exams, he never told them this story for fear of what they would say. It was, after all, completely ridiculous. Even though he had the bite marks on his hand, there's no way he couldn't prove that a baby hadn't bitten him rather than a leprechaun. So the boy never told anybody and he carried the story with him to the grave.

The moral of the story is: Never grab an angry, imaginary leprechaun...it won't do anybody a spot of good

Stop reading.

- Rian