Murphy’s Leprechauns (short story)

Murphy’s Leprechauns

The pub proved louder than usual as the local inhabitants of a small village in County Down gathered to celebrate Michael Murphy’s engagement to Colleen McKinney. Seamus O’Doole grinned as his longtime friend left the pub to walk the fair Colleen home. A gentleman of seventy or more summers remarked to no one in particular that Murphy continued to imbibe nothing but virgin tea after his encounter two years ago. This declaration spawned several of the regulars to petition Seamus to entertain them with the tale of Michael Murphy’s run in with the wee folk.

“Come now, Seamus,” Colin Finny, the owner of the pub, pleaded. “Me son, Billy is home after bein’ gone to university fer these past two yahrs and he hasn’t heard the story.”

“What ahr ye studying, lad?” Seamus asked.

Billy Finny drained the last of his pint, smacked his lips and looked squarely into the face of O’Doole. “The real world. Cum Seamus, let’s make me Da happy. Tell me aboat the wee folk.”

Seamus smiled. If he had told the tale a hundred times, he had told it a hundred and one.

“Murphy’s leprechauns,” chorused twenty or more voices.

Seamus slid off the barstool and a couple of brawny arms lifted him onto the bar. After all, Seamus O’Doole was the shortest man in the village and everyone wanted to hear him tell his tale. Once he was situated, Seamus adjusted his blue striped shirt pulling it over his large round belly. He accepted a fresh glass of ale from Colin to wet his whistle and then he began his story.

It had been a terrible day and Michael Murphy didn’t want to venture out into the miserable cold night. As a matter of fact, he wanted to curl up with his bottle of whiskey and dream of Mary; Mary whose eyes were the color of a summer sky and her soft lips smiled every time he called her name.

Seamus O’Doole had requested his presence. Michael had feigned illness again because Seamus knew that Michael would not leave his alcohol induced fantasies and trade his warm bed for the cold night even if just for some of Colleen’s stew or to discuss some crazy scheme involving faerie folk.

Several sharp raps on the door made the man inside groan loudly. Seamus imagined his friend rolling over on the lumpy mattress and pulling woolen covers over his head. It indeed had been a terrible day for Michael Murphy starting with that new dentist who came over from America and took up residence in the County. James Puhl had married one of the prettiest girls in all Ireland, Mary Connors, with whom Michael had wanted to court since they were children; but, erroneously figured he had plenty of time. Now Mary belonged to a foreigner and worse, the man, who wanted to remove four of Michael’s teeth. Not one but four teeth were supposedly rotten.

“He’s joost after me money,” Michael said aloud. “How will I eat without all me choppers. One is not enough, the man wants four.”

“Murphy, who ahr ye shouting at? Cum lad and open the door,” Seamus pleaded.

“Go away, Seamus. I’m ill. Tell Colleen I cahn’t eat her stew.”

“Murphy, as much as I’d like to see ye spend an evening in the presence of the lovely Colleen, ’tis not the night, lad. There’s terrible mischief a brewin’ at the dentist’s place.”

“Aye, to be sure. The man is a thief.”

“Murhpy, do the mister and missus have bairns?”

“What ahr ye goin’ on aboat?” Michael stood in the doorway of his house, the scowl on his face evident in the bright moonlight.

Seamus lowered his voice. “Methinks the wee folk have cum to see the dentist.”

Michael blurted a laugh. “Maybe they came to part with their gold and some o’ their teeth.”

“’Tis no laughin’ matter, lad. I heard the mister makin’ some strange noises.”

Michael shrugged. “Mary never did cook her cabbage long enough. Bad business fer the stomach.” He rubbed his belly.

“No, that’s not it at all. I tell ye Murphy, we have to go help. Think aboat poor Mary.”

Murphy made a sound deep in his throat. “I’m sure ’tis nothin’ but yer imagination as usual, Seamus, but fer Mary, I will cum.”

Michael happened to be a bit wobbly on his feet as Seamus tried to steady the younger man who towered over him at six foot two. The usual ten minute walk took twice as long. Finally, the two friends approached the dentist’s home. Seamus could feel Michael trembling.

“I dohn’t hear anythin’, Seamus. I’m cold and tired. I want to go back to bed.”

Seamus shook his head. “No ye dohn’t. Yer cold because yer blood’s been replaced by that whiskey ye cuddle oop with.”

“It helps me ferget her. I moost be daft. I spend all me time trying to ferget the woman I’ve lost and here I am standin’ in front of her house with a man who thinks leprechauns ahr makin’ dental appointments with her husband.” Michael went up the window and peered in. “What time is it?”

The warm glow of a lamp filled the room. Mary Puhl was sitting at her husband’s desk. Her husband stood behind the chair and caressed her hair.

“Aah, look at her, Seamus. She’s as lovely as the day I ferst met her.”

Seamus, tugged his ear, stamped his feet and cleared his throat.

“Be quiet, man,” Michael whispered. “That dentist might see me and shoot me dead thinkin’ I’m a robber. I dohn’t see anythin’…ach…what is that.?”

Seamus sidled up next to his friend. What appeared to be two small boys with blond hair spiked and green at the tips had entered the room waving their hands at the Puhls.

“Who ahr those bairns?” Michael asked.

“Those arhn’t bains, those ahr devilish wee folk,” Seamus said with a slight quiver in his voice. “’Tis why I had ye cum. Mary and her husband ahr goin’ to be magicked.”

Michael glanced down at Seamus with a look of pure pity. “Honestly, Seamus, and ye think I drink too much.” He started to turn toward his house just as Mary let out a more of squeal than a shriek. Michael grinned wryly. “Yer too funny, Seamus.”

The “boys” spun around and ran to the window. Michael stiffened. He made a sound something like a cow giving birth and then fell backward like a dead man.

Billy gulped down his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What did he see, O’Doole?”

Seamus scratched his ear and yawned. “Methinks I’m getting’ too old. What time is it Colin? ‘Tis past me bedtime.”

“O’Doole, yer no’ goin’ anywhere until ye tell me what Murphy saw.”

Seamus smiled and then he laughed. It started like a low rumble and then it became loud and contagious. Everyone in the pub guffawed and howled. After the laughter quieted down, Seamus wiped his eyes.

“Murphy woke up in the ahrm o’ Colleen tears in his eyes thinkin’ the yahrs of drinkin’ had made him daft. But, Colleen spoke in that gentle sweet voice of hers, explainin’ that Murphy was a hero. His caterwaulin’ frightened off the wee folk and saved the Mister and Missus from something terrible. He went home that night a different man and poured oat all o’ his whiskey. He has no’ touched one drop since.”

Billy shook his head. “What a shame. He kept some good whiskey; but, what did he really see?”

“To be sure, Murphy thought he saw leprechauns; but, I cahn tell ye that Colleen’s nephews needed to have their teeth cleaned. So they put in their mouth some o’ Mister Puhl’s fake choppers, that he uses to teach wee ones how to brush and Colleen helped by puttin’ her fake nails on their fingers. Joost havin’ a bit o’ fun as wee lads will do. I suspect Murphy believed he met his leprechauns.”

“Ahr ye telling me ye played a joke and nearly frightened the man to death?” Billy exclaimed.

Seamus eyed the young man. “Me friend’s life is saved from despair.”

As the pub emptied, Seamus stacked a few coins on the bar and left the owner and his son. He couldn’t help hearing the conversation that ensued.

“Da, isn’t it true that Colleen was an orphan taken in by Seamus.”

“Aye,” Colin said quietly.

“Then how can she have any nephews?”

“Now son, that university has made ye think too much. Cum help me clean oop.”

“There’s something strange aboat this…Da, these are real gold!”

Seamus O’Doole walked toward the thickly wooded slopes of ash, beech and sycamore to his cottage. He felt a wedding would surely be coming soon. He needed to dig deep into his savings to give his friend the finest celebration in all the county.

Copyright July 2009 Leann DeHart