Leprechaun Luck

Patty hurried home in the predawn light, her cobbler tools slung over her shoulder. Thirteen orphan shoes repaired, and not one had woken up. Not bad for a night’s work. She whistled three cheery notes before cutting herself off, remembering that she mustn’t be seen.

Everything had gone so splendidly that night. That worried her. Her kin called her “Patty the Unlucky,” for despite being a leprechaun, she had worse luck than your average human.

Patty’s feet tingled, and she froze in place. Her sixth sense told her that somewhere, nearby, there was… there! Down the trash-filled alley was a shoe in distress. A gorgeous red patent leather high-heeled ankle boot gleamed amid the detritus. An integrated red leather strap dangled loose, missing the buckle meant to snuggle the boot around a slim ankle.

Succumbing to the siren song of the elegant footwear, Patty walked over and picked up the shoe. It jingled. Shhh, she hissed at it, and dropped her tools to silence the boot’s little bell charm with her other hand. The tools clanged loudly upon impact with the street.

“Aha!” rang a voice of voice of triumph from the alley entrance. Patty turned slowly around and saw a tall, beefy man blocking her path. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist that shoe!” he said, grabbing her firmly by the collar. “I want my three wishes.”

“Oh sir,” said Patty in agitation, “please don’t. I’m so terribly unlucky. Your wishes will go horribly wrong!”

“Hah! You can’t fool me. Now first off, I want my wife back. Right here. Back to me.”

With a flash of light, the boot in Patty’s hand was filled with a slim ankle. The ankle was attached to a heavyset woman, naked, entwined with a man. The pair pitched headfirst into the garbage heap. As the burly man’s mouth went slack, so did his fingers, and Patty took off running.

Nearing home, she considered how to tell her father. He would kill her for losing another set of tools. He’d probably even make her go back to the man to give him his last two wishes. Maybe she could say a dog ate her tools. But again?

Drat it all. Drat her rotten luck!