The Giant Leprechaun
For Sully
My Grandfather
Wherever your heart may now be.
______________________________________________________
Preview
"So, ye didn't brief the case ye say." Shouted Professor MacGregor,who then, in three quick strides, drew himself before young Sean Hannity's desk, and looked down at the bewildered student. All in the classroom could see that the Professor's arsenical green face was starting to darken with mounting fury.
"Hold out ye hand Sean Hannity!" Professor Macgregor shrieked.
Young Sean Hannity, who was clearly trembling by now, did so, since he was under the magical and mysterious control of Professsor MacGregor's fairy dust. The Professor then raised his shillelagh, held tightly in his muscular fist, and shook it furiously in front of the young student's face.
"Well then Sean Hannity, Professor MacGregor continued, "If ye think ye be bettern' all o' the class, an' too good to be doin' the briefin of yer cases, pray tell: what was the holdin' in the case?"
There was dead silence, and Sean Hannity's eyes went down in shame.
"Look at me!" Screamed Professor MacGregor. "Damn ye, look at me Hannity, and tell me the holdin' in the case, or.....he paused.......or so help me on me dear Mother's own grave.......
I'LL LATHER YE! SO HELP ME GOD! I'LL LATHER YE!"
The rest of the class was powerless to say or do anything, because they were also feeling the strange, paralyzing effects of the fairy dust; the mental and physical immobility, as well as the intoxicating fear that it seemed to somehow engender.............
Suddenly the shilelagh sliced through the air, with a whistling, sinister, whipping sound, and came down upon young Sean Hannity's outstretched palm...........
The entire class winced..........
The entire class winced..........
_____________________________________________________
THE STORY
The boys down at Maloney's Pub were having a great laugh, and they kept on laughing, even as Bill O'Reilly paused, so as to toss yet another tall pint of his favorite black Guiness down his windpipe, in an attempt to assuage both his customary Friday evening thirst, as well as his current confusion.
After he had drained the glass, and while pounding on the bar for Maloney to draw him another, O'Reilly continued his tale, and with the same unwonted perplexity:
"I'm telling ye" Said O'Reilly, in his thick Irish brogue, "he was the giantest Leprechaun ye ever did saw! A great big one, and all covered o'er with great big green muscles!" and O'Reilly raised his arms halfway in a mock double biceps pose.
Another roar of laughter from the boys went up, and Willie O'Sullivan, the mailman asked:
"Now, now O'Reilly. Are ye sure that that yer not just a bit color blind, and that they wasn't pink muscles that ye was seein'?"
O'Reilly shook his head and said: "They wus undeniably grrrreen. And green so it was with his skin all o'er. And, now listen here, cause I'll swear on me mother's grave to it, he was a ridin'.........guess what?"
The boys could hardly speak they were laughing so hard, but officer Fitzspatrick, or chief, rather, of the local Constabulary, managed to respond:
"Pray tell O'Reilly. What was it that he was ridin? Was it a broomstick the fairy godmother gave him for his birthday present?" (Which brought a playful shove from behind.)
But O'Reilly remained concerned, and very serious as he answered:
"No, I tell ye. T'wasn't no broomstick, and there t'werent no fairy godmother. He was ridin a honest to goodness......... motorcycle!"
The roar that went up at that statement could be heard from outside a whole city block away, maybe two blocks. It was pure entertainment for the boys. They were well aware of how much O"Reilly loved his Guiness, and of O'Reilly's capacity for telling tall tales after he had had a few, but this story was the tallest, and most preposterous tale yet.
"A motorcycle! Exclaimed Willie O' Sullivan. Now is that what it was? A Harley O'Davidson perhaps?"
But O'Reilly was evidently very serious, and, after another swallow, persisted: "It was a motorcycle for sure. And it was a Japanese one. And he wus a rrrridin' it."
If you had bet that the chorus of laughter had reached its apex already, you would have lost , for the laughter became positively deafening after Willie O'Sullivan remarked:
"Now do you be seein the shame of it boys? Even giant leprechauns are refusin to buy domestic."
______________________________
But Bill O'Reilly's tale turned out to be true. There was indeed a new leprechaun in town. He was a Constitutional Law Professor, and he had been hired by the newly accredited, fourth-tier Law School situated not far from Maloney's Pub, and adjacent to the Railroad Tracks.
The part about the motorcycle turned out to be true as well, as all who were in Maloney's Pub that night soon learned, for the giant Leprechaun was seen to be riding, and without a helmet, (since there was no helmet law in the state of the Law School's domicile at the time of this tale, and besides he wouldn't have been able to squeeze one over his rather large and pointed green ears even if he had tried) the aforesaid imported motorcycle all about town.
One thing about the Leprechaun O'Reilly didn't relate, and which fifty first year Law students are about to find out, is that this Giant Leprachaun, whose name was Professor MacGregor, possibly ranked among the rudest, and most obnoxious of all Leprechauns, big or small, that the green fields of Erin had ever produced. And he was an unrepentant, and mean Bully as well, with not just a touch, but an ample and depraved portion of larceny in his tiny, green Leprechaun's heart. (In fact, it is surprising that JD Painter has even given him a heart at all.)
Of course, and character-wise, we all know that compared to the rest of the human faculty at the Law School, and especially the Dean, the giant Leprechaun might have seemed the proverbial choir boy and model citizen.
Another, and important thing that O'Reilly failed to notice, because it was inside the saddle bags of Professor MacGregor's motorcycle, was the fact that the Professor, the giant Leprechaun, always walked about with his shillelagh, or Irish walking stick, which Professor Macgregor was wont to brandish in the face of his students. But....I'm getting ahead here.
Also, at this juncture, in light of the name of our newly introduced friend, the Professor, and upon the remote contingency that any real Irish or Scottish people read this tale, I feel that I should explain that in America, there is no difference between the Irish and the Scots, and that if one of the former or the latter tribe were to ever to attempt to explain the difference to an American, until blue in the face, the American will continue to fail to comprehend the tutorial, and persist in believing Scots to be, and referring to them as: "Irish"
Professor MacGregor, without his traditional clothes and motorcycle outfit consisting of a green cloak, striped socks and knickers, and buckled shoes, or, that is to say, when dressed appropriately in the more "professional" and untailored polyester and corduroy casual business/academic attire, (as befitting his calling) and also with an equally appropriate haircut, rather resembled Mr. Spock.
However, that was where the semblance ended, for MacGregor's fiery temperment partook of none of Mr. Spock's cool and logical traits.Far from it. In fact, it could be said that Proffesor MacGregor's nature was more like that of a violent and madcap Doctor McCoy. Nor did the Professor have anything like the humorless disposition of Mr. Spock, as he was given to random fits of high-pitched laughter over the hearing of his own jokes, in much the same way it is said that some people enjoy the smell of their own flatulance. (JD Painter never liked that word, and always found it more offensive, perhaps due to it's complexity, than the simple word: Fart)
After he had drained the glass, and while pounding on the bar for Maloney to draw him another, O'Reilly continued his tale, and with the same unwonted perplexity:
"I'm telling ye" Said O'Reilly, in his thick Irish brogue, "he was the giantest Leprechaun ye ever did saw! A great big one, and all covered o'er with great big green muscles!" and O'Reilly raised his arms halfway in a mock double biceps pose.
Another roar of laughter from the boys went up, and Willie O'Sullivan, the mailman asked:
"Now, now O'Reilly. Are ye sure that that yer not just a bit color blind, and that they wasn't pink muscles that ye was seein'?"
O'Reilly shook his head and said: "They wus undeniably grrrreen. And green so it was with his skin all o'er. And, now listen here, cause I'll swear on me mother's grave to it, he was a ridin'.........guess what?"
The boys could hardly speak they were laughing so hard, but officer Fitzspatrick, or chief, rather, of the local Constabulary, managed to respond:
"Pray tell O'Reilly. What was it that he was ridin? Was it a broomstick the fairy godmother gave him for his birthday present?" (Which brought a playful shove from behind.)
But O'Reilly remained concerned, and very serious as he answered:
"No, I tell ye. T'wasn't no broomstick, and there t'werent no fairy godmother. He was ridin a honest to goodness......... motorcycle!"
The roar that went up at that statement could be heard from outside a whole city block away, maybe two blocks. It was pure entertainment for the boys. They were well aware of how much O"Reilly loved his Guiness, and of O'Reilly's capacity for telling tall tales after he had had a few, but this story was the tallest, and most preposterous tale yet.
"A motorcycle! Exclaimed Willie O' Sullivan. Now is that what it was? A Harley O'Davidson perhaps?"
But O'Reilly was evidently very serious, and, after another swallow, persisted: "It was a motorcycle for sure. And it was a Japanese one. And he wus a rrrridin' it."
If you had bet that the chorus of laughter had reached its apex already, you would have lost , for the laughter became positively deafening after Willie O'Sullivan remarked:
"Now do you be seein the shame of it boys? Even giant leprechauns are refusin to buy domestic."
______________________________
But Bill O'Reilly's tale turned out to be true. There was indeed a new leprechaun in town. He was a Constitutional Law Professor, and he had been hired by the newly accredited, fourth-tier Law School situated not far from Maloney's Pub, and adjacent to the Railroad Tracks.
The part about the motorcycle turned out to be true as well, as all who were in Maloney's Pub that night soon learned, for the giant Leprechaun was seen to be riding, and without a helmet, (since there was no helmet law in the state of the Law School's domicile at the time of this tale, and besides he wouldn't have been able to squeeze one over his rather large and pointed green ears even if he had tried) the aforesaid imported motorcycle all about town.
One thing about the Leprechaun O'Reilly didn't relate, and which fifty first year Law students are about to find out, is that this Giant Leprachaun, whose name was Professor MacGregor, possibly ranked among the rudest, and most obnoxious of all Leprechauns, big or small, that the green fields of Erin had ever produced. And he was an unrepentant, and mean Bully as well, with not just a touch, but an ample and depraved portion of larceny in his tiny, green Leprechaun's heart. (In fact, it is surprising that JD Painter has even given him a heart at all.)
Of course, and character-wise, we all know that compared to the rest of the human faculty at the Law School, and especially the Dean, the giant Leprechaun might have seemed the proverbial choir boy and model citizen.
Another, and important thing that O'Reilly failed to notice, because it was inside the saddle bags of Professor MacGregor's motorcycle, was the fact that the Professor, the giant Leprechaun, always walked about with his shillelagh, or Irish walking stick, which Professor Macgregor was wont to brandish in the face of his students. But....I'm getting ahead here.
Also, at this juncture, in light of the name of our newly introduced friend, the Professor, and upon the remote contingency that any real Irish or Scottish people read this tale, I feel that I should explain that in America, there is no difference between the Irish and the Scots, and that if one of the former or the latter tribe were to ever to attempt to explain the difference to an American, until blue in the face, the American will continue to fail to comprehend the tutorial, and persist in believing Scots to be, and referring to them as: "Irish"
Professor MacGregor, without his traditional clothes and motorcycle outfit consisting of a green cloak, striped socks and knickers, and buckled shoes, or, that is to say, when dressed appropriately in the more "professional" and untailored polyester and corduroy casual business/academic attire, (as befitting his calling) and also with an equally appropriate haircut, rather resembled Mr. Spock.
However, that was where the semblance ended, for MacGregor's fiery temperment partook of none of Mr. Spock's cool and logical traits.Far from it. In fact, it could be said that Proffesor MacGregor's nature was more like that of a violent and madcap Doctor McCoy. Nor did the Professor have anything like the humorless disposition of Mr. Spock, as he was given to random fits of high-pitched laughter over the hearing of his own jokes, in much the same way it is said that some people enjoy the smell of their own flatulance. (JD Painter never liked that word, and always found it more offensive, perhaps due to it's complexity, than the simple word: Fart)
______________________________________________________
* This story is a work in progress, and I want to finish it. So keep checking back. It is all in my head and I just have to set it down.
It is a spoof of sorts on the abusiveness of the Socratic Method of teaching in a Law School, and I add a robbery element to the abuse of the students as well, so as to symbolize Student Loans. But I don't want to give too much away for now.
NOTES:
The 1L (Partial) Roll Call of the 1L class, which will be added to.
The names are of many of my favorite musicians and a few others of Irish or Scottish heritage that are not musicians but end up getting abused by Professor MacGregor nevertheless.
Black, Mary
Brady, Paul
Butler, Jean
Casey, Karan
Coulter, Ann
Dunne, Colin
Fisher, Archie
Flateley, Michael
Gaughan, Richard
Hannity, Sean
Irvine, Andy
Ivers, Ilene
Jordan, Cathy
Kilbrie, Patrick
Lunny, Donal
MacGill, Susie
Miller, EdMcKennitt, Loreena
Moore, Christy
Nic Amhlaoibh, Maureen
Ryan, Cathie
Whelan, Bill
Whelan, John
This song plays into the story a little bit too.
And I will leave youse all with this today as well. The bonny lass dancing in the film below kind of reminds me of the vision that inundates my senses whenever I behold Ann Coulter.
I mean. I got it bad. It is like I cannot concentrate on anything she says, and all I can imagine is her as a dancing Countess Cathleen or as this beauty in Feet of Flames.
But I will leave a hint as to how the Giant Leprechaun, professor MacGregor deals with Ann Coulter. He doesn't really, and that is because Ann is unperturbed by Professor MacGregor, and stands up to him as best she can under the spell of the fairy dust,and proves herself to be, in the words of the Professor: "A sassy lassie."
Anyway, stay tuned for the rest of the story above.
