(no subject)
the following is a short story written by my sister and i with a little help from blake. she turned this in for her final english project and got 100 percent. we are all very proud of it. enjoy
The Luckless Leprechauns
When Pat woke up, his head was throbbing. The taste of vomit and beer lingered in his mouth. His green, leprechaun hat laid crumpled under his head - acting as a makeshift pillow on a cold bathroom floor. Crawling up to the sink, Pat’s disheveled visage appeared in the mirror. He let out a leprechaun groan and began to wash his face. After his morning rituals, Pat knew he had to locate his precious pot o’ gold. He checked his pockets, the oven, his bedroom, the toilet, and even the fridge, but it was nowhere to be found! In a state of panic, Pat pulled out his magical, leprechaun, communicating device (otherwise known as a cell phone) and frantically called all of his leprechaun friends.
First on the list was Shlomo, Pat’s most trusted friend. He was the only Jewish leprechaun in town and owned the kosher deli down the street from Pat. Pat burst into the deli and cried, “SHALOM SHLOMO! Do you have my precious pot o’ gold?”
Surprised, Shlomo threw the lox and bagels he was carrying into the air and replied, “Oi! Pat, what’s with the commotion? You’re acting like a meshugener!”
“Shlomo, remember the party last night? Well I got so wasted, and I can’t seem to track down my precious pot o’ gold!”
“What a coincidence,” said Shlomo. “My horse shoes are missing as well, and I wasn’t nearly as drunk as you.”
“My gold is missing, and your horse shoes are missing… we better go see if Wang and Seamus are missing anything too.”
So, Shlomo and Pat ventured down the road in their magical, leprechaun, transporter machine (otherwise known as a Honda Civic) to the local, leprechaun dry cleaners, owned by their good friend Wang, the only Asian leprechaun in Cloverton. “WANG!” screamed Shlomo and Pat simultaneously as they entered Wang’s Happy Dry Cleaners.
“What’s all the ruckus, Pat and Shlomo?” asked Wang.
“I can’t find my pot o’ gold,” exclaimed Pat.
“And I’m missing my special horse shoes,” sobbed Shlomo.
“Shame, shame, shame. You need to be more organized like me. I keep my rainbows in the top of my secret, special case. See?” Wang confidently opened a drawer near the cash register only to find that his rainbows were missing. He cried and ran through his store, turning over all of his clients’ orders. “WHERE ARE MY RAINBOWS!?” he shouted in a language that neither Pat nor Shlomo could understand.
“Seems like you, too, are missing something important,” Shlomo coyly suggested. “Were you at the party last night, Wang?” Pat inquired.
“Why yes, I was,” Wang answered.
“Well we were too. Who was hosting the party?”
“I have no idea,” said Wang.
“Me neither,” added Shlomo. “I bet Seamus would know though.”
So the trio made their way across town to Seamus’ Pub, the Blarney Stoned. This pub emulated everything that was negative about Cloverton. In the corner, shady figures sold their four-leafed clovers while the din of inebriated trolls and goblins resonated in the hazy, pungent air. The three leprechaun friends nervously entered the unsettling establishment. Their bright green jackets and hats contrasted the brown, earthy tones of the repulsive creatures that patronized the pub. A stubby, aged troll made his way to the young leprechauns. Warts dominated his face, and his eyes penetrated through the cloudy room as blue and bright as glaciers.
The bouncer asked, “What business do you twerps have here?”
“We wish to speak with Seamus,” Pat hesitantly stuttered.
The troll exploded. “Seamus? SEAMUS!? Why do you think you are qualified to speak with such a being as great as the one and only Seamus, owner of this pub and creator of all that is good in the world!?!?”
A voice floated out from the back of the room. “Mellow out Rognaralkolopolopolop. They’re cool,” said a scruffy, hip leprechaun to the troll. Rognaralkolopolopolop breathed heavily and stared at Wang.
“I’ll be keeping my eyes on you,” he snapped. The troll sauntered off to a stool and buried his head into a drink.
Seamus stood in front of the overwhelmed trio and explained that Rognaralkolopolopolop was just upset that his name was too long for anyone to pronounce, resulting in an unfortunate nickname. “Nobody wants to be called Ploppy Poo,” Seamus giggled. “So what can I do you for?”
“Well,” Pat began, “we all seem to be missing something very important to us. Because we were all so trashed last night, we’ve come to the conclusion that we left our stuff at the party, but we don’t know whose party it was! Do you?”
Seamus’ eyes lit up. “I’m missing something too! After that party, I realized that can’t seem to find my red balloons anywhere, but I don’t remember who hosted the party either.”
At this point the four leprechaun friends stood silently, pondering where their beloved possessions could have gone. Luckily, Rognaralkolopolopolop, also known as Ploppy Poo, waddled to the group.
“I know how you can find your things,” he grumbled. “Go see the all knowing Unicorn. He only lives about a block from here. Just follow the creek down to the meadow. He will know what to do.” The leprechaun friends thanked Ploppy Poo and continued their long journey down the creek, but since the unicorn lived only a block away, their journey was actually not really that long.
After their tiring, 3-minute endeavor, the quartet of leprechaun friends arrived at a large apartment complex, Meadow Apartments. The building towered over the minute leprechauns. Its walls, worn, torn and forlorn, ivy devouring its reddish-brown bricks, and the last vestiges of grass clinging to life around the base of this tired building mirrored old ruins of an ancient Mayan temple. Arriving at the doorstep, Pat scanned the list of names on the intercom.
He read outloud, “Johnson 301, Smithson 215, Rubengoldenbergsteinson 181…”
“Hey,” Shlomo interrupted. “I thought I was the only Jew in Cloverton.”
Ignoring Shlomo, Pat continued, “Peterson 117, O’malleyson 211, All-Knowing-Unicorn 749 7/8”
“That’s our stop,” Wang passionately announced, ringing the bell. There was a brief moment of silence, but then the buzzer rang and the door unlocked. Pat, Wang, Shlomo and Seamus made their way up the seven flights of stairs. This was very difficult for the leprechauns due to their short legs, but their determination paid off as the reached their destination.
Noticing the slightly smaller door, they realized that this was it, room 749 7/8. The door creaked open, and as soon as everybody shuffled in the dark room, it slammed behind them. They were surrounded by silence, and one by one they spoke, announcing the items they each had lost. Lights flashed. Fire erupted. The four leprechaun friends, shocked and awed, blinked rapidly at the shadowy image of a majestic unicorn on the curtain in front of them. An unexpected, high-pitched voice pierced the air.
“I am the All-Knowing-Unicorn,” squealed the All-Knowing-Unicorn. “Fear me and my all knowing power of infinite greatitude. Hear my voice and tremble beneath its awesomeness and terrifyingness. You are nothing. I am EVERYTHING! I am the mighty and majestic unicorn. You are worms, mere leprechauns…” As the unicorn continued on with his rant, Seamus, bored out of his mind, began to explore the small, shabby apartment. While looking for anything of interest, Seamus noticed something odd about this so-called “unicorn.” As he pulled aside the curtain, the squealing pitched louder “…I can make your lives hell! When you are eating dinner, I will call you like a telemarketer and offer you things that you do not want nor need. When you are on the subway reading the newspaper, I WILL BE THE ONE READING OVER YOUR SHOULDER!” The four leprechauns speechlessly stared at what they thought was a unicorn. Instead, short, gray-brown hair covered the body of a half-horse half-donkey, (otherwise known as a mule) the most dreadful creature in all of Cloverton. His head hung low under the weight of a dull, broad sword and several rolls of duct tape.
“Pay no attention to the mule behind the curtain,” the embarrassed animal remarked. Disgusted the four leprechauns lowered their heads in disappointment and headed towards the door. “Wait!” the un-unicorn called. “I may not be able to find your precious items, but I have something that will make you feel better.” The ugly creature disappeared for a moment, and the leprechauns waited in the doorway out of curiosity. The mule returned with a red box in his mouth. Throwing it at the leprechauns’ feet, the mule proudly presented the box of Lucky Charms.
“In this box, you will find your pot o’ gold, your horse shoes, your rainbows and your red balloons.”
“Thanks a lot, mule,” the leprechauns all said sarcastically together, scoffing at the silly container of cereal. They slowly turned around and walked out of the apartment.
Shlomo, the last to leave, allowed his friends to gain a lead in front of him as he stopped for one last question. “Hey mule, how did you duct tape that sword to your head without any opposable thumbs?”
The End
The Luckless Leprechauns
When Pat woke up, his head was throbbing. The taste of vomit and beer lingered in his mouth. His green, leprechaun hat laid crumpled under his head - acting as a makeshift pillow on a cold bathroom floor. Crawling up to the sink, Pat’s disheveled visage appeared in the mirror. He let out a leprechaun groan and began to wash his face. After his morning rituals, Pat knew he had to locate his precious pot o’ gold. He checked his pockets, the oven, his bedroom, the toilet, and even the fridge, but it was nowhere to be found! In a state of panic, Pat pulled out his magical, leprechaun, communicating device (otherwise known as a cell phone) and frantically called all of his leprechaun friends.
First on the list was Shlomo, Pat’s most trusted friend. He was the only Jewish leprechaun in town and owned the kosher deli down the street from Pat. Pat burst into the deli and cried, “SHALOM SHLOMO! Do you have my precious pot o’ gold?”
Surprised, Shlomo threw the lox and bagels he was carrying into the air and replied, “Oi! Pat, what’s with the commotion? You’re acting like a meshugener!”
“Shlomo, remember the party last night? Well I got so wasted, and I can’t seem to track down my precious pot o’ gold!”
“What a coincidence,” said Shlomo. “My horse shoes are missing as well, and I wasn’t nearly as drunk as you.”
“My gold is missing, and your horse shoes are missing… we better go see if Wang and Seamus are missing anything too.”
So, Shlomo and Pat ventured down the road in their magical, leprechaun, transporter machine (otherwise known as a Honda Civic) to the local, leprechaun dry cleaners, owned by their good friend Wang, the only Asian leprechaun in Cloverton. “WANG!” screamed Shlomo and Pat simultaneously as they entered Wang’s Happy Dry Cleaners.
“What’s all the ruckus, Pat and Shlomo?” asked Wang.
“I can’t find my pot o’ gold,” exclaimed Pat.
“And I’m missing my special horse shoes,” sobbed Shlomo.
“Shame, shame, shame. You need to be more organized like me. I keep my rainbows in the top of my secret, special case. See?” Wang confidently opened a drawer near the cash register only to find that his rainbows were missing. He cried and ran through his store, turning over all of his clients’ orders. “WHERE ARE MY RAINBOWS!?” he shouted in a language that neither Pat nor Shlomo could understand.
“Seems like you, too, are missing something important,” Shlomo coyly suggested. “Were you at the party last night, Wang?” Pat inquired.
“Why yes, I was,” Wang answered.
“Well we were too. Who was hosting the party?”
“I have no idea,” said Wang.
“Me neither,” added Shlomo. “I bet Seamus would know though.”
So the trio made their way across town to Seamus’ Pub, the Blarney Stoned. This pub emulated everything that was negative about Cloverton. In the corner, shady figures sold their four-leafed clovers while the din of inebriated trolls and goblins resonated in the hazy, pungent air. The three leprechaun friends nervously entered the unsettling establishment. Their bright green jackets and hats contrasted the brown, earthy tones of the repulsive creatures that patronized the pub. A stubby, aged troll made his way to the young leprechauns. Warts dominated his face, and his eyes penetrated through the cloudy room as blue and bright as glaciers.
The bouncer asked, “What business do you twerps have here?”
“We wish to speak with Seamus,” Pat hesitantly stuttered.
The troll exploded. “Seamus? SEAMUS!? Why do you think you are qualified to speak with such a being as great as the one and only Seamus, owner of this pub and creator of all that is good in the world!?!?”
A voice floated out from the back of the room. “Mellow out Rognaralkolopolopolop. They’re cool,” said a scruffy, hip leprechaun to the troll. Rognaralkolopolopolop breathed heavily and stared at Wang.
“I’ll be keeping my eyes on you,” he snapped. The troll sauntered off to a stool and buried his head into a drink.
Seamus stood in front of the overwhelmed trio and explained that Rognaralkolopolopolop was just upset that his name was too long for anyone to pronounce, resulting in an unfortunate nickname. “Nobody wants to be called Ploppy Poo,” Seamus giggled. “So what can I do you for?”
“Well,” Pat began, “we all seem to be missing something very important to us. Because we were all so trashed last night, we’ve come to the conclusion that we left our stuff at the party, but we don’t know whose party it was! Do you?”
Seamus’ eyes lit up. “I’m missing something too! After that party, I realized that can’t seem to find my red balloons anywhere, but I don’t remember who hosted the party either.”
At this point the four leprechaun friends stood silently, pondering where their beloved possessions could have gone. Luckily, Rognaralkolopolopolop, also known as Ploppy Poo, waddled to the group.
“I know how you can find your things,” he grumbled. “Go see the all knowing Unicorn. He only lives about a block from here. Just follow the creek down to the meadow. He will know what to do.” The leprechaun friends thanked Ploppy Poo and continued their long journey down the creek, but since the unicorn lived only a block away, their journey was actually not really that long.
After their tiring, 3-minute endeavor, the quartet of leprechaun friends arrived at a large apartment complex, Meadow Apartments. The building towered over the minute leprechauns. Its walls, worn, torn and forlorn, ivy devouring its reddish-brown bricks, and the last vestiges of grass clinging to life around the base of this tired building mirrored old ruins of an ancient Mayan temple. Arriving at the doorstep, Pat scanned the list of names on the intercom.
He read outloud, “Johnson 301, Smithson 215, Rubengoldenbergsteinson 181…”
“Hey,” Shlomo interrupted. “I thought I was the only Jew in Cloverton.”
Ignoring Shlomo, Pat continued, “Peterson 117, O’malleyson 211, All-Knowing-Unicorn 749 7/8”
“That’s our stop,” Wang passionately announced, ringing the bell. There was a brief moment of silence, but then the buzzer rang and the door unlocked. Pat, Wang, Shlomo and Seamus made their way up the seven flights of stairs. This was very difficult for the leprechauns due to their short legs, but their determination paid off as the reached their destination.
Noticing the slightly smaller door, they realized that this was it, room 749 7/8. The door creaked open, and as soon as everybody shuffled in the dark room, it slammed behind them. They were surrounded by silence, and one by one they spoke, announcing the items they each had lost. Lights flashed. Fire erupted. The four leprechaun friends, shocked and awed, blinked rapidly at the shadowy image of a majestic unicorn on the curtain in front of them. An unexpected, high-pitched voice pierced the air.
“I am the All-Knowing-Unicorn,” squealed the All-Knowing-Unicorn. “Fear me and my all knowing power of infinite greatitude. Hear my voice and tremble beneath its awesomeness and terrifyingness. You are nothing. I am EVERYTHING! I am the mighty and majestic unicorn. You are worms, mere leprechauns…” As the unicorn continued on with his rant, Seamus, bored out of his mind, began to explore the small, shabby apartment. While looking for anything of interest, Seamus noticed something odd about this so-called “unicorn.” As he pulled aside the curtain, the squealing pitched louder “…I can make your lives hell! When you are eating dinner, I will call you like a telemarketer and offer you things that you do not want nor need. When you are on the subway reading the newspaper, I WILL BE THE ONE READING OVER YOUR SHOULDER!” The four leprechauns speechlessly stared at what they thought was a unicorn. Instead, short, gray-brown hair covered the body of a half-horse half-donkey, (otherwise known as a mule) the most dreadful creature in all of Cloverton. His head hung low under the weight of a dull, broad sword and several rolls of duct tape.
“Pay no attention to the mule behind the curtain,” the embarrassed animal remarked. Disgusted the four leprechauns lowered their heads in disappointment and headed towards the door. “Wait!” the un-unicorn called. “I may not be able to find your precious items, but I have something that will make you feel better.” The ugly creature disappeared for a moment, and the leprechauns waited in the doorway out of curiosity. The mule returned with a red box in his mouth. Throwing it at the leprechauns’ feet, the mule proudly presented the box of Lucky Charms.
“In this box, you will find your pot o’ gold, your horse shoes, your rainbows and your red balloons.”
“Thanks a lot, mule,” the leprechauns all said sarcastically together, scoffing at the silly container of cereal. They slowly turned around and walked out of the apartment.
Shlomo, the last to leave, allowed his friends to gain a lead in front of him as he stopped for one last question. “Hey mule, how did you duct tape that sword to your head without any opposable thumbs?”
The End