St. Patrick's Day with Patrick

Patrick was the unluckiest guy ever. Not a day went by when he didn’t destroy something by being clumsy, or when he would strike out with a girl. He was getting close to thirty and each day became more frustrated by his five year dry spell. He pulled on his green clover shirt. If anything, he was at least going to get shit faced on St. Patrick’s Day. As he headed out the door he sighed. Knowing his luck, he’d probably be back home soon, or end up in the hospital sober. He groaned as he walked toward the local irish pub. The sun glared in his eyes, making it hard for him to see. He grumbled to himself as he tried to block it with his hand. After what felt like an eternity, he reached the pub and headed inside. Already, the place was packed, people were shoulder to shoulder, most of them already plastered drunk. Patrick pushed his way to the bar and ordered his first drink. As he waited, he looked down the bar to see a fine Asian girl, sipping away at her green cocktail. Her raven black hair seemed to shine, accenting her cute face. As Patrick’s eyes ventured lower, he could see that she was also unlucky, in that she had gotten the small part of the Asian genes. If it wasn’t for her cute face, he would have sworn she was a boy…but also knowing his luck, she probably was a lady boy. When his dark stout finally appeared, Patrick was honest with the bartender and already told him he would need a few more immediately. Before the bartender could argue, Patrick downed his pint in seconds. The bartender nodded and went off to get more glasses. It was going to be a blur of a night.

***

Hours later, Patrick let out a loud belch, the smell caught by his nostrils, making him feel sick. He ran outside the bar and turned the corner, puking his guts out in the alley. After he had finished emptying his stomach of everything, Patrick looked up. Beside the dumpster he saw something strange. A person no taller than three feet seemed to be mumbling to himself. “Is that…” Patrick whispered to himself as he slowly moved toward the strange man. “A leprechaun?!” He yelled as he grabbed the man by the shoulders.”

“Fookin’ shite!” The strange man yelled in his high pitched voice. “Who’s got me held tight?” Patrick turned so that they were face to face. “Ugh, just my luck, a stinkin’ blind drunk.”

“Are you…a leprechaun?” Patrick asked, still not sure if this was real.

“Yea, I am lad, but this is bad.” The man responded. “Set me free and let me be, I won’t charge ye a fee.” He offered. “For the man drunk as a fish, I’ll grant you one wish.”

Patrick thought for a second…if this was real, this could be good.