A Foul Morning and a Foul Mouth

Three days to Saint Patrick’s Day and she didn’t have a lick of green to wear.

Nora O’Donnell pulled out a ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ shirt from her dresser, putting a thumb through a hole in the shirt where the apostrophe would’ve been. She’d bought that shirt as a joke a few years back, but now it was more of a desperate advertisement.

Maybe she could sew the hole shut.

Nora looked at herself in the mirror, holding up the shirt to herself. She’d already done her hair, tying it into an auburn red ponytail. The green shirt was a decent fit for her frame; it would be thick enough to conceal her black bra. And it was a good match for her jeans that hugged her behind.

The doorbell rang, Nora turning to shout only to hear a loud riiiiiiiiiiiiip.

Her thumb had now torn a much larger hole in the shirt. Now she really didn’t have anything to wear.

A second ring echoed through her apartment. She’d need to get moving if she was going to get to school on time. “Coming!”

----

Nora struggled to put on a hoodie for her parents’ alma mater, shoving an arm through the sleeve as she opened the door.

That gave the person on the other side a good look at half her bra and her bare midriff. Thankfully, it wasn’t anyone Nora didn’t trust.

Sylvia Miller had been Nora’s best friend since freshman year of high school. With thick-rimmed glasses the same shade as her short pixie cut and today’s choice of emerald sweat pants with matching sweat shirt, she was no one’s choice for fashion tips.

But Nora got along with her anyway. She was that ride or die type, the one who it took forever to get to know but made it worth your while.

“Eep!” Some color went to Sylvia’s face as she averted her eyes from Nora pulling her hoodie on.

“Oh relax, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Nora teased before coming out with her backpack. “Another rejection yesterday.”

Sylvia pat Nora on the shoulder. “Do you have any schools left?”

“Just one. Cee Tech.”

Sylvia’s eyes went wide. “T-That’s the college I’m going to.”

“It's my reach school.” Nora sighed. “I know I don’t have the grades for it, but I thought I might get lucky.” That got a dark laugh. “Imagine that. Me, lucky.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Sylvia told her.

The two kept talking as they got in sight of Westpond High School – and a familiar red coupe sped by.

“There he is.” Nora watched the coupe take a parking spot and its driver climb out. He was easily over six feet tall, pulling his letterman jacket tighter on his wide frame and not messing up a single coifed brown hair on his head. “Jack Dylan. God, that would be a nice way to spend the rest of senior year.”

Sylvia leaned to get a look at him before shaking her head. “I don’t see it.”

“Yeah, you never do,” said Nora. “Let me guess. ‘He’s not my type’? You say that about every guy I think is cute. One of these days we’re gonna figure out who you think is cute and it’ll be my turn to judge.”

Nora laughed as she got another look at Jack, not seeing Sylvia’s blush. “D-Do you need help studying tonight?”

“Mm?” Nora stopped daydreaming about being Jack’s cheerleader. “Yeah, I need to pass that US Government test. I’ll be a bit late though, I need to go into town to get a few things. Like something to wear for the Saint Patrick’s Day Festival.”

Another car passed by, hitting a puddle and dousing Nora in water.

“And dignity. I need some dignity.”

----

Westpond prided itself on its Irish heritage. Stands and decorations were busy being set up for the weekend’s festivities, trucks filled with extra shipments of booze were making deliveries, and everyone was starting to get into the spirit.

Nora sighed as she stared at the fountain at the center of town. Exhibit A of the town’s Irish pride, as twisted as it could get – a stone statue of a leprechaun with a talisman loosely resting on his forehead.

The old wives’ tale around town was if you threw a penny into the fountain, your wish would come true. The town appreciated that story so much they’d erected signs telling people their reward for doing that would be a one hundred dollar fine.

Not that Nora cared today. She pulled out a penny and stared at the fountain, closing her eyes. “I want to be lucky. Even if it’s just for a few days, I wish I knew what it was like.”

Her thumb flicked the penny out, only for it to hit a nearby fence post. Which it bounced off of and hit a nearby passing car’s hubcap, knocking it off. The now rogue hubcap crashed into the window display of a toy store, decapitating a doll and sending its head flying. The doll’s head then smacked into the fountain statue, toppling the whole thing backwards into the water.

Nora ran over to the other side, but didn’t see the statue. It was gone – probably reduced to dust. But she did see a golden amulet with an emerald set in it resting where it should be.

Without thinking, she waded into the fountain and picked up the amulet. Where had this come from?

In the distance, she could hear the sound of police sirens and began quickly trying to duck into a nearby building. All she’d done is toss a penny, she couldn’t have known any of that was going to happen! Stupid rotten luck!

Thankfully, she’d walked into a clothing store. She should still have enough money to buy something for the festival. Something simple and green, perhaps.

Nora pulled such a shirt and pulled into the dressing room before she froze.

Sitting on a shelf in the changing room was a gruff old man not three feet tall, wearing a green hat with a buckle with a matching green jacket that covered a white shirt beneath. His pants and shoes were both black, the shoes polished to a fine shine and buckled tight around his surprisingly large feet.

The leprechaun man grimaced. “What are ye doin’, ye daft bitch? Room’s occupied!”