By: Vanessa Sgroi
"I’ve come for me gold!"
Awakened from a sound sleep by the voice, Johnny Gage sat straight up in his bunk.
"I’ve come for me gold!"
"Who is that?"
Johnny peered into the darkness in an attempt to see who was talking.
"Kelly, is that you? Stop playing around, it’s the middle of the night!
"Who is this Kelly? Tis, not me that’s for sure! Now, give me my gold."
Try as he might, Gage couldn’t see a thing in the murky darkness.
"Gold? What gold? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?"
"I am Seamus. A leprechaun, don’t ye know. A man should know who he’s stealing from."
"Stealing from? But, I didn’t . . . I haven’t . . ."
"Well, now, ye go by the name John Gage, do ye not?"
"Then ‘tis you who stole me gold. The fairies told me so."
"Bah! Enough of this patter. I want me pot o’ gold. If ye don’t give it to me now, I’ll poke you with me walking stick till ye do."
"I . . . I . . . ow!"
"I . . . ow! Stop . . . ow!"
"Where’s me GOLD?"
"YEOW!" Johnny yelped at a particularly sharp pain and blindly thrust his hand out in an attempt to defend himself. His hand met with Roy’s jaw.
"Geez, Junior, try to help a guy and get hit for it."
"R-R-Roy?" Gage squinted into the dark.
"What’s goin’ on? Why’d you poke me with a stick?"
"Stick? I didn’t poke you with a stick. You were having one hell of a nightmare. I tried calling your name, but you wouldn’t wake up so I had to pinch your arm."
The dark-haired paramedic reached up and rubbed the offended spot.
"Oh. Wow. What a nightmare," he mumbled.
"Wanna tell me about it?"
"I . . . I . . . was dreaming about a . . . a . . . leprechaun."
DeSoto couldn’t hold back a chuckle. "A leprechaun?"
Johnny felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment, and he was grateful Roy couldn’t see.
"Yeah. He thought I’d stole his pot o’ gold, and he wanted it back. When I wouldn’t give it to him, he started poking me with a stick."
Again, Roy laughed quietly. "Must have been that corned beef and cabbage Chet made for dinner tonight, huh?"
"Yeah, yeah, I guess so."
"You okay to go back to sleep?"
"Uh huh." Gage gave a huge yawn.
"All right. Goodnight."
" ‘night, Roy. Thanks."
Over on his bunk, Chet lay listening to the whispered conversation between the two paramedics. With a huge grin, he pushed the tiny pot o’ gold he had been holding under his pillow. Guess I can return that in the morning. Thank you, Seamus.
Thanks for the challenge, Audrey.
*Click on the Pot of Gold to send Vanessa feedback
Saint Patrick's Day Stories Stories by Vanessa