An Interview With a Leprechaun

I heard a strange pinging sound in the basement, and fearful that it might be something wrong with the boiler, went downstairs to check. As I descended the cellar stairs, it became clear that the sound was coming from the mudroom. The sharpness of the sound and the stillness of the air made me pause, for there was magic about. I looked cautiously around the corner and my suspicions were confirmed. I had sensed it. The door was open. The night air mixed with that of the basement. Sitting on the bench where I normally put on my boots was a leprechaun.

He was wearing old jeans, a tee shirt, and a hoodie. His face was ancient, shrouded by the hood, and full of white whiskers. He wore no mask. His hands were busy fixing my loafers on a small cobbler’s kit he had brought with him. As soon as I saw him and realized what he was, he spoke to me.

Leprechaun: Come no closer, [he used my spirit name]. If you come near, not only will I stop repairing your loafers, I’ll sour your honey crop this summer so you’ll have no Christmas presents next year.

Gutbloom: I won’t move another inch.

[The temptation to try to catch a leprechaun was intense, but that was why the door was open. I had no chance.]

Leprechaun: That’s a smart Gutbloom. Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.

Gutbloom: Why this good fortune? What have I done to merit a visit from the Fairy Folk?

Leprechaun: Three things. The first was when you saw my fairy ring in the lawn and avoided it with your mower all summer. I appreciate that. Second, what you’ve done in the swamp is good for peeper frogs, and they help me sleep. Last, you voted for Joe Biden.

Gutbloom: Doesn’t seem like much.

Leprechaun: I was bored.

Gutbloom: Can you fix those shoes? I thought they were too far gone.

[The leprechaun looked at me with pity briefly, letting me know that my embarrassingly insulting question wouldn’t provoke his wrath. I felt like a child.]

Leprechaun: The only question is, “why did you let them get like this?” These are fine shoes. You should have had them resoled ages ago.

Gutbloom: The shoe repair guy, Milton, died. His shop is now closed.

[The leprechaun winced. It was fleeting… incredibly quick. He just squeezed his eyes and let out a short sigh.]

Leprechaun: So, why don’t you ask me some stupid questions for your blog-thing? This should make some good copy, shouldn’t it? You asking me if I ride pigs or watch goblin porn?

Gutbloom: I don’t know. I don’t have the heart right now. I’d like to ask you real questions, but I know you have no answers for what ails me or this world, and even if you answered my question truthfully I wouldn’t have the wisdom to understand what you said.

[He had finished with the shoes. He put them in a brown paper bag, wrote 42 on it in magic marker, then packed up his kit. He sat one the bench and looked at me square, his short legs dangling eight inches above the floor.]

Leprechaun: That’s true.

Gutbloom: Do you know who Marjorie Taylor Greene is?

Leprechaun: I do.

Gutbloom: Did you read the Politico article about her?

Leprechaun: I did.

Gutbloom: And what did you think?

Leprechaun: What do you want me to say?

Gutbloom: Isn’t it sad?

Leprechaun: It is.

Gutbloom: Sadder than most?

Leprechaun: I don’t know about that. There is no way for me to judge. It’s as if there was a river flowing in the wrong direction and you pointed to a wave that the wind kicked up and said, “isn’t that sad?” It is. In truth, it is. Or say there was a flock of geese flying north at the start of winter, and you pointed to a thin one in the middle of the flock and asked me, “don’t you feel bad for that poor fucker?” The truth is, I do.

Gutbloom: So what do we do?

Leprechaun: Oh, I don’t know… enjoy the sunshine, look for clear water, wait for the full moon. Don’t wear your shoes down past the soles.

Gutbloom: What about lottery numbers? Any tips?

Leprechaun: Play the numbers from fortune cookies.

Gutbloom: Can I give you anything for the shoes?

Leprechaun: If you offered me some of that weed you grew last summer, I wouldn’t say ‘no’.

Gutbloom: What are you going to do, celebrate St. Patrick’s day by getting stoned and watching the Celtics?

Leprechaun: No, you idiot. I’m going to drink green beer, watch the British Baking Show, then ride my flying pig to go fuck frogs.

Gutbloom: Really? You have a…

He jumped forward, grabbed the bag of weed out of my hand, and ran out the door so fast it almost seemed like he had never been there.

The moonlight came through the door and illuminated a path on the mudroom floor. It led outside, through the yard, past the big pine trees, and on and on over the mountain.

I was left, once again, wanting.

Others in This Series:

Interview With and Oak Tree Interview With Athena Interview With a Dragon Interview With a Cuttlefish Interview With a Pig An Interview With Procrustes An Interview With the Minotaur