“Did ye think ye were seeing things?” mocked the leprechaun.
Well, what else could he be? A tiny, wizened old man, squatting on a red and white toadstool.
Struggling to retrieve my composure, I registered his distinctive sartorial style.
A battered green stovepipe hat; a six button yellow waistcoat over a green shirt; green baggy trousers; shiny black shoes with silver buckles.
“Have ye an eye in yer head, a brain in yer skull, or as much common sense as McGinty’s goat?”
My inquisitor was seriously lacking in the “how to win friends and influence people” department.
“Well…,” I stuttered.
The leprechaun cut me off.
“Those mushrooms ye gathered here yesterday are mind benders. Did ye ate them?”
I was reeling from the relentless interrogation.
“As a matter of fact…”
“Never mind. I need yer help, be ye gombeen, moon shouter, gobshite or a bit o’ both.
Me pal Seamus – Seamus Always – has fallen down a rabbit hole and I need help to get him out.”