The Leprechaun 2 The Return of the Green Gut!

Last Saturday “The Drunkest Leprechaun” returned. You might remember him from an earlier post: The Drunkest Leprechaun He’s a nice enough guy, but he drinks WAY too much and stumbles around like a bumbling idiot. We haven’t let him inside in months.

I was talking with James when I saw a cabbie losing his shit about something, hands waving about, pointing, flicking invisible things from the air, whacking the dash of his minivan.  

“Is that the Drunk guy from St. Paddy’s day?” I asked.
“I dunno” said James, taking a closer look. The passenger opened the car door and stumbled out awkwardly, almost face planning into a Kia.
“Yep! We gonna let him in?”
“I don’t know yet, lets see” Leprechaun stumbled over the curb then almost fell over trying to high five a tall, skinny smoker.
“Nope!” we chimed.
Our holdout from march 17^th weaved to the door but James just shook his head. No entry tonight pal. He got a fist bump for his efforts.

The Leprechaun bobbed amongst the smokers, shaking hands and hugging everyone in sight. Eventually he jitterbugged his way to a group of girls sitting on a bench. After a moment one of them started waving frantically to me. I sauntered over to their spot. 

The Leprechaun had grabbed his impressive pot belly and was lifting it up and down. The cartoon character Animal from the Muppet show, emblazoned on the front of his shirt did a little dance with the motion. “This is horrible. Just awful!” he declared as four 18 year old girls watched with horror and laughing embarrassedly at the clown in front of them. He then started rubbing his belly with both hands, as though he might be able to see the future in it. The 18 year olds should have been horrified as they were most likely looking at their own futures.

“This is just awful right?” the Leprechaun repeated, speaking as though he had just noticed his gut for the first time.
“Lets go get you a cab” I said.
“Yeah, OK” he said. I could feel the relief wash over four 18 year old girls sitting on the bench behind me. I thought, be happy if this is the worst guy you have to deal with in your just blossoming drinking career, gals.

Back at the door James got another fist bump. Then I got one. James looked down and saw that the Leprechaun was bleeding “Hey you’re bleeding” he pointed to the drunk man’s leg.
There was a line of dried blood on his shin, and two more on his calf and ankle. He lifted his leg and rubbed at his shin, which only served start the flow of blood all over again. He turned to try and see his own calf reminding me of a dog trying to catch his own tail, turning, turning, turning.

The sole of his Burkenstock was drenched in blood, his heel stained red. He shrugged and staggered off to a cab who wouldn't let him in. I went in and got a damp paper towel so he could at least clean himself up a bit and maybe have a better shot at getting a lift out of my immediate area.

I came back out and he was fist bumping James again. I approached and he started going on about how awesome we were, and offered me a high five. A high five that I knew would become a bro hug if I fell for it again. I just handed him the paper towels. He looked at them as though I’d handed him something beautiful and confusing. The meaning of life wrapped around last years tax code. “To clean yourself up” I said.

With a dull spark of realization he took the paper towels and then grabbed my hand (Dammit to hell! I really need to start carrying hand sanitizer). Then he bent over, looked at his leg and stuffed the wet paper towel in his pocket. Then waddled off to the taxi stand. Eventually he found a cab who would take him and disappeared. For at least a week or two.