Unlucky Charms
by
Murray Peters
Lightning flashed across the sky. Mallory looked up from the bar when he heard his door creak.
“I just oiled those hinges,” he said.
A storm raged outside. The hinges glowed green, and the door opened all the way. A small man entered, and the crowd grew silent – then laughed at the little guy.
“Sure, the weather is desperate,” the little man said.
He stood four feet tall. His brown, gold-buckled shoes clicked on the floor as he walked in.
“What the hell are you?” Mallory asked and laughed.
“Tis going to get worse before it gets better,” the short fellow said.
Dressed in mostly green with green and white striped socks, emerald pants and coat, he stood and looked over the crowd. He wore a black vest with a white shirt beneath and a bowtie the colour of Ireland’s hills. On his head sat a brown top hat with a glowing four-leaf clover that seemed to move and churn on its own. He skipped to the bar and jumped onto a stool.
“I am Charms, and I want a green beer,” he said and slammed his hand hard on the counter. “Now.”
“I don’t serve green beer here,” Mallory said, leaning down to look Charms in the eye.
“Oh, ye don’t be like that. It’s Saint Paddy’s Day. And on this glorious day, you serve green beer.” Charms spoke with an Irish accent in the Texas tavern.
“I don’t serve green beer no matter what day it is, you little shit.”
“Don’t ye celebrate Saint Paddy’s Day in Texas?”
“No. And I don’t serve Micks either.” Mallory poked Charms in the chest.
“Tis a green beer I want. Please, laddy, serve me a green beer. For the love of the Irish.”
“Fuck the Irish.”
Mallory slammed his fist down hard on the counter in front of Charms. Charms smiled, revealing his long canine teeth. His clover shone brighter.
“I like those longhorns hanging behind the bar. What do ye use them for?” Charms said.
“Those are my lucky horns.”
“Really? Feelin’ unlucky?”
“I think your luck is about to run out, Bubba,” Mallory said with a terrible Irish accent. He leaned toward the small man.
“How ‘bout a green beer?” Charms said and leaned toward the big man.
Mallory glanced at his eight patrons and found them smiling. He grinned too. Tim punched his fist into his hand, signally Mallory to beat this annoying little shit.
“Where’s me green beer?”
“Well, Seamus,” Mallory said. He walked out from behind his bar.
“I’m not Seamus. I’m Charms. Unlucky Charms, Mallory.”
The bartender stopped.
“How do you know my name? Who sent you?”
“Me fellow leprechauns sent me.”
The bar erupted with laughter.
“You’re a leprechaun? Well, you’re the right size for one, you little pissant.”
“Where are your ‘Lucky Charms,’ Mister Leprechaun?” Edmond yelled across the barroom. And everyone laughed – except Charms.
“You’ll find me ‘charms’ rather ‘unlucky,’ Eddy boy.”
“What the fuck? How do you know me? I don’t know you,” Edmond said.
“But I know ye Yanks. Now, give me a green beer…please. Or do I have to shite on ‘y’all.’ Don’t make me get ugly.”
“Too late for that,” someone said, and somebody laughed.
Charms face sparkled, twisted and contorted. His eyes glowed emerald. And his pink skin pulled away from his face, revealing a white skull.
“Good God! What are you?” Locke said.
Others gasped and screamed.
Charms skin snapped back into place, and he said, “I’m your gobshite day. Now, serve me me green beer before I rip the bajesus out of ye bastards.”
Charms pointed at Mallory and the bar.
“Just what do you think you can do to us? Parlor tricks? From a midget piece of shit with delusions of grandeur?” Mallory said.
“Me? I can tear ye asshole out and put a pussy in its place.”
“He’s calling you a ‘pussy,’” Dara said. “Kick his ass.”
“Isn’t that what you did last year, Dara?” Charms said.
“I don’t know? How? You?”
“So, I’m a pussy?”
Mallory advanced on Charms and grabbed his vest.
“I think it’s time for this midget motherfucker leprechaun to hit the streets.”
“But it’s not fit for a dog out there,” Charms said, and the storm raged outside.
Mallory picked him up with one hand and carried him to the exit. He smashed Charms into the door which creaked again as it flew open. He threw Charms as far as he could into the street. Charms landed in the center of the road and rolled then skidded to a stop. Rain poured down, and the winds blew. Mallory returned to his tavern. Inside, the guys cheered and laughed.
“I can’t believe that piece of shit,” Peter said.
Mallory rounded his bar and stopped dead in his tracks when the door burst open with a loud squeal and minty flames blasting out of the hinges. Unlucky Charms walked in the open door with a green aura. He got up on a stool.
“Sure, the weather is desperate,” he said and shook of the rain. “Give me a green beer.”
Shocked, Mallory rushed and smoked him upside his head, sending him to the floor. Charms snapped up of the hardwood and back onto a barstool. He straightened his clothes and pulled up his socks. He sighed.
“Please serve me a green beer. Me patience runs thin.”
“So does mine.”
Mallory bent down beneath the bar and took out a sawed-off shotgun.
“Would you like to be a dead leprechaun?”
Charms smiled. And Mallory leveled the shotgun at him.
Charms reached into his vest pocket and brought out some white limestone rocks. He threw the stones across the counter, each landed an equal distance apart with one striking Mallory in the forehead before landing in its place on the bar.
“Who does this fucking Mick think he is?” Tim said from the back of the room.
“Let’s go get him, boys,” Peter said. “I wanna use these rocks.” He put up his fists.
“You’re gonna die, you Irish asshole.”
They all stood and moved toward Charms until they heard a scream coming from behind them. They turned and saw another little man hanging off Tim’s ear.
“Oh, I see ye have met Tadhg. He’s quite the biter – bites like a wolf dog.”
“Help me! He’s biting my ear.”
Tim shrieked as Tadhg bit deeper, grinding his teeth. Blood poured out of his earlobe. Tim tried to pull the leprechaun off but that resulted in more pain.
“Get him off. Get him off!”
“Hurts don’t it, mate?” Charms said.
Locke ran to Tim and took hold of Tadhg and yanked, but the biting leprechaun bit deeper. Peter joined in and they both heaved on the magical man. Dara and Aiden also grabbed Tadhg and pulled. But he didn’t let go.
“Let’s give him one hard yank. That should do it,” Locke said. “one-two-three pull.”
With sudden force, they wrenched on the biting leprechaun. With his lobe still in Tadhg’s mouth, Tim’s ear along with a piece of his skull and a baseball-sized chuck of brain came out and off of him. Tim’s mouth opened wide as if to scream but nothing came out. The shocked men let the leprechaun go, and Tim and Tadhg fell down. Tim convulsed.
“Look at that fecker shake,” Tadhg said with the ear, skull and brain hanging from his bloody mouth.
“Good God,” Peter said.
Tim grew still and stopped breathing.
“That’s one dead Yank,” Tadhg said. “He’s sure tasty too, the edjet.”
The men looked away from Tim and found the leprechaun that killed him eating his brains and skull. The bone crunched in his mouth and brain bits dribbled down his chin.
“You motherfucker,” Mallory said and shot Tadhg.
The small guy flew across the room from the force of the blast and hit the wall, sticking to it. The lead blew a large emerald hole in his stomach.
“Oh, me lunch,” Tadhg said. He smiled and kept munching. “I’m all right. I’m all right,” he said, hanging five feet up. He vibrated and shrunk into a piece of limestone.
The patrons turned to Charms, shock registered on their faces.
“A green beer, please”
“Fuck you,” Mallory said.
A rock of limestone with a miniature skeleton in it glowed green, shook and morphed into another leprechaun. This one stood on the bar. On his head a Viking helmet with emerald horns, and a sword fit in his belt.
“I’m Lochlan. And I’m looking for a fight,” the leprechaun said. He drew his sword and released a Viking roar.
One of the men made a run for the door, but Charms tripped and stomped on him.
“No one gets out,” Charms said.
Another raced to the rear fire exit. Charms twiddled his sparkling fingers and sealed the door. He let the man beneath his foot up.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the man said as he stood up.
“Now where have I heard that before?” Lochlan said. “Locke, ye know?”
Locke shook his head, and Lochlan stepped toward the large man.
“Ye be quite big. Big like a Viking. Ye wanna fight? I’m sure ye can beat the bajesus out of me.”
“You’ll just stab me with your sword,” Locke said. “I don’t have a sword.”
“Here ye go,” Charms said and wiggled his fingers.
A sword popped into Locke’s hand and wrapped its grip around his mitt. Lochlan unsheathed his sword.
“Have at thee,” Lochlan said.
“Wait. This isn’t fair. I’ve never held a sword before.”
“Oh, so ye want a fair fight, is it? Have ye always been in fair fights?”
Locke nodded.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lochlan said and struck Locke’s sword with his own. “Like a Viking - those mental bastards - I’d think ye be itchin’ for a fight.”
“No.”
“Ye be gettin’ one anyway.”
Lochlan hit Locke’s sword again, and Locke tried to cut the Viking leprechaun.
“That’s it,” Lochlan said and stabbed the man’s large leg.
“Aaargh! You asshole. I’ll get you.”
Locke swung his sword and cut off Lochlan’s left arm.
“Me arm! Me arm!”
Locke laughed and got his left arm cut off.
“My arm! My arm!”
“Keepin’ it fair,” Lochlan said.
Lochlan’s severed arm crawled across the floor by its fingers and gripped Locke’s left leg. He tried to shake it off. Lochlan sliced deep into Locke’s left side. A pain filled yelp escaped Locke’s mouth.
“This ain’t fair.”
“No, tis not,” Charms said. “Now finish him.”
Lochlan leapt into the air and thrust his blade through Locke’s neck, decapitating him. With blood spurting from his headless neck, his body crumpled. The head fell and bounced on the floor, still talking.
“Not fair. Not fair,” it kept saying until it stopped dead.
“An unworthy foe,” Lochlan said and took a bow. He picked up his arm and reattached it. He shone and shrunk back into his limestone.
Charms walked up and picked up the stone. Putting it his pocket, he grinned.
“Next.”
In petrified silence, the bar patrons watched as another rock transformed into a little magical man. He stood up on the bar and put his hands on his hips.
“I’m Cabhan.”
He jumped down and pulled down the jeans of the nearest man, showing off his underwear.
“Pink, Cavan? Where’s the green? It’s Saint Patrick’s Day. I’m going to have to make ye the right colour.”
Cabhan yanked down Cavan’s underwear and clutched the man’s balls, wrenched them forward and gave them a great stretch. Cavan let out an “Uuuh” and tried to get the leprechaun off. Cabhan let go and the sac snapped back into place.
“Thank God,” Cavan said.
“Not done with ye yet, ye fecker.”
Grass sprouted out of Cavan’s testicles, growing fast.
“What’s happening?”
The grass branched outward from his nuts and covered his every speck.
It vegetated in his mouth; filling it so much he could not breath. Cavan clawed at his throat and mouth, tearing grass out. He could not start breathing again. He attempted to speak but only muffled, guttural sounds emerged. His eyes pleaded for help, but the other men only stared in disbelief. Cavan kept ripping grass out by the handfuls, but it regrew in faster fashion.
“I don’t think he has very long now,” Cabhan said. “Grass grows on fertile ground and better on the other side. Reminds me of the rolling hills of Ireland. Me home.” A tear glazed in Cabhan’s eye.
Cavan fell over, gasping. The other guys backed away as if they could catch it. Cavan laid on the floor and suffocated.
“’Tis a pity, but the piece of shite had it comin’,” Charms said.
“I’m done,” Cabhan said and disappeared into limestone.
“What are you?” someone said.
“I’m Charms, Unlucky Charms. Here comes Eamon, keeper of the gold.”
The men gasped.
Charms pointed to a piece of limestone with a tiny green skeleton that grew into a big belly boy. Eamon patted his gut and the sound of coins clinking echoed out.
“What was that?” Edmond said.
“That’s me gold. I keep it in me belly. Edmond, me boy, I hear ye like robbing young lads. Care to have a shot at me gold? Whatever ye get from me is yours.
“Watch out.”
“Be careful.”
“Don’t trust him.”
Edmond put up his dukes and approached the latest leprechaun.
“So it’s a fight ye want,” Eamon said and raised his fists.
Edmond got close and punched Eamon in his pot of gold belly. He doubled over. Edmond bent down and hit him again.
“Oh, me gold,” Eamon said.
“You’re mine now,” Edmond said and kicked him in the breadbasket. The guys cheered.
“Yeah! Get him, Ed.”
“Where’s your lucky charms now? Now give me your gold before I cut it out of you.”
“Alright, ye bastard. Me gold is magical vomit.”
Eamon’s mouth opened wide enough to overtake his face. Gold spewed out of his jaws in a long, steady stream. The coins rammed in to Edmond’s yap, breaking and knocking out his teeth. Down his throat and into gut, the pieces of gold penetrated deep and heavy.
His stomach expanded and stretched to twice its size. He tried to scream and screech, but the treasure buried his cry. Edmond’s bowels grew and grew. His eyes widened with pain and panic and his nostrils flared. His abdomen ruptured. Gold, guts and gore sprayed across the barroom. Covered in Ed, the men heaved and hollered.
“Me gold?” Eamon said. “Arseholes, especially dead ones, don’t get me fortune.”
“I guess he doesn’t get to keep it after all,” Charms said. “Eamon sure made him pay.”
Eamon ran about collecting each gold piece from dead Ed, the bloody floor, the disgusted patrons, and the entrails that covered the barroom. He swallowed each coin without cleaning it off. And when he finished, he disappeared into the stone he grew out of.
“How are you doing this?” Aiden said. “It isn’t possible.”
“Me unlucky charms are magically demented.”
Another limestone
charm turned a dark green and expanded into Aedan. He yawned stretched.
“What a long nap. Charms, ye needn’t leave me in there too long. I gotta go to the jocks,” Aedan said and pulled out his minuscule member.
The remaining men laughed and pointed at his petite penis.
“What? Ye don’t like me little willy?”
Aedan flipped his dick up and down and smiled.
“I’m gonna slash ye amadans with it,” Aedan said.
They appeared confused.
“I need to loose the juice, bleed the lizard, drain me main vein. Ha-a-a-a-a-ah.”
Thick green gobs of piss streamed out of him. He held his almighty manhood and turned side-to-side soaking the living and the dead men. Their clothes, hair and faces got drenched in emerald excrement. And the urine kept coming.
The patrons tried to avoid the waste, running around the room, colliding into one another, tripping over dead bodies, and slipping on insides. But the power pee persisted until Aedan’s bladder emptied. And the men all vomited.
“That was one long nap,” Charms said.
“A nice soaking for piss poor excuses for humans,” Aedan said.
He put his willy away and looked one of them in the eye.
“Especially you, Aiden.”
“Me? What’d I do? Leave me alone.”
Aedan dropped down from the bar and walked toward his target. Aiden cowered from the leprechaun. Aedan sparkled green. Reaching out, Aedan touched Aiden between his groin and his gut.
“Ye’ve got a full bladder, matie,” he said. “And ye have to pee right now.”
Aiden’s eyes grew and his hands went to his crotch. In a panic, he undid his jeans’ button and ripped the zipper down.
“Oh, God. I got to drain the dragon - real bad.”
He pushed his underwear down to let his dick out. Piss burst out of him, and he screamed.
“It burns. It burns!”
“Stings a little, don’t it?” Aedan said.
“No, it hurts a lot.”
“That’s acid ye pissin’ now.”
“Aaaaah! It’s getting worse.”
“It’s a persistent piss, alright.
Welts developed on Aiden’s prick, and the burning spread. Deep inside him, his bladder burst. Fiendish, acidic urine spread throughout his insides. His intestines dissolved. The acid rose up within him and attacked his heart. And all he could do was wail and fall down dead.
“What a little pissant he was,” Aedan said and dropped out of sight and into his limestone.
Unlucky Charms: A Horror Fantasy Page 1
