Monster Mashup - Spooky Short Stories with Special Bonus Zombie Short

by MJ Ware

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  Rolling Leprechauns for Change

  I know fanny packs are for old balding guys. So why do I wear one? It's not by choice. It happened a few months ago. A couple of my friends and I decided we'd try to make a little extra spending money...

  I pressed my knee into the small of his back. "Come on, guys. Get his hands."

  Matt wrestled with one arm. Steve had just pinned the other. This guy was half our size, but strong as a pit bull.

  "Here's the zip tie."

  "Hold him still, Matt," Steve yelled over the clicking of the zip tie.

  "Get it tighter, or he'll wiggle his hands loose," I yelled.

  From under me, I heard a low growl. I let up on his back. I didn't want to hurt him.

  "Okay, turn him over, but don't look away."

  With a loud thump, we flipped him on his back.

  "No more games. Tell us where it is." I tried to stare into his cold green eyes. "We're serious."

  He didn't make a sound but peered deep inside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve turn and look away. "Don't take your eyes off him." I glanced over when I spoke.

  That's all it took—he was gone.

  "Wait, I still have his foot." Matt tried to hold on, but a split second later his head jerked back and he let go. "Ouch, my nose!" he cried.

  "Dude, you both looked away." I beat my fists on the ground.

  "So did you." Blood dripped from Matt's nose.

  "We almost had him that time."

  "That's it. I'm done." Steve stood up and started walking away. "It's bad luck. You know I failed last week's math quiz?"

  I threw up my arms. "How's that different from any other week?"

  "Steve's right. It's no use." Matt wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve.

  I sat on my knees watching them walk away. When I stood up, something caught my eye. Gleaming over by the bushes.

  Leaping up, I pounced on it, like it might disappear any second.

  I opened my hand expecting it to fade away, but it lay there cold in my palm—it had to be gold. It was old, not quite round, an ancient horse staring back at me.

  I almost skipped home. Passing Matt's house I walked quickly. Yeah, I probably should have shared it with them. But they'd left, given up. I'd give 'em extra nice birthday presents next year—that sounded fair.

  But how could I cash it in? It's not like I could sell it at the coin shop. They'd ask where I got it or why my parents weren't with me. That'd never work.

  Maybe if I told my parents I found it out by the abandoned field. Heck, that'd be the truth.

  Might fool Dad, but Mom's too smart. She'd know something was up.

  Uncle Nick pulled up in his old VW as I got home. My heart jumped. Uncle Nick would help sell it. He was always doing something scandalous—this time it wouldn't even be illegal. I'd just have to make sure he didn't take too big a cut.

  "Hey, Uncle Nick," I yelled.

  "How's it going little dude?" He waved back.

  "Wait till you see this." I reached in my pocket and felt around.

  "Well, little dude?" He glanced over to the house.

  I pulled my pocket out. A big hole tore right through the middle of it.

  "Hole in your pocket, huh?" he said walking towards the house. "Retrace your steps. You'll find it."

  "Sure." I turned and started walking.

  I walked all the way to the field, but the coin was gone for good.

  I took a quick look around, making sure we hadn't knocked any other coins loose.

  About ten yards away, I saw him sitting on a fence, wearing that stupid green suit. He stared with those piercing green eyes, just smiling at me.

  I shook my head. I couldn't help but smile.

  When I got back home, Uncle Nick's car was parked in the street. I knew him well enough to figure out he'd moved the car so my parents could take him out for dinner. He only came over when he wanted something for free.

  I guess it was leftovers for me, I thought as I pulled out my keys. Only my keys weren't there.

  How could this be, two pockets with holes? It didn't take long to figure out I'd been the victim of some sort of Celtic little people curse. It didn't matter how new my pants were, or what I put in them, I'd lose it—every time.

  That's why I'm doomed to forever wear a fanny pack. Take my advice: never roll a leprechaun for loose change.