by Chuck Rothman
There was no doubt. Green clothing? Check. Top Hat? Check. Red Beard? Check. Smoking a pipe? Check.
It was a leprechaun.
Arnold couldn't believe his change of luck. Things had been going badly for him lately. There were rumors of firings at Burger King and he knew that Mr. Lawson never liked him in the first place. Sally had broken up with him, hinting that she had grown tired of long walks on the beach and going to Burger King for a treat with a discount. "I may not think money is the only thing," she had said, "but I'd like to do something nice every once in a while."
And now the leprechaun. He sat leaning against a tree, looking at the sunset and smoking on his pipe. He was about three feet tall, with all the accouterments of leprechaundom.
Including a pot of gold. It was small, about the size of a medium soft drink, but even half full, it'd leave Arnold sitting pretty. Gold was gold.
Arnold moved slowly and carefully until he was only a few yards from his prey. Then he charged.