Jezri's Nightmares: Saint Patrick's Day Surprise

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and whether you are Irish or not, (I am...at least somewhere down my family line) and you can bet I will be wearing the green. I will not however be wearing what this wife surprised her husband with.

Saint Patrick's Day Surprise

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

“WHAT THE HELL!” Steve stood in the doorway to his bedroom, his mouth hanging open. His wife, her platinum blond hair messed up and looking like it had been hit by a whirlwind looked up at her husband and smiled.

“Oh my God! Honey, welcome home!”

“Is that all you can say?!”

Lorrain looked at her husband, puzzled. He was clearly agitated, but she couldn’t understand why. She decided humor fit the situation. “Well, I would have thrown you a party, but you weren’t supposed to get back until Sunday.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Steve said. “SURPRISE!”

Lorrain wasn’t sure why Steve seemed so flustered but she thought she knew why. “You noticed my hair,” she said, patting her locks. “Do you like it? I thought a little change would be nice.”

“You think I’m upset about your hair?”

“It will grow back you know.” ‘Sheesh,’ Lorrain thought, ‘you would think he’d never seen anyone change their hairstyle.’

“I’m not upset about your hair! It’s the other ‘little’ thing that has me upset.” Steve gestured towards Lorrain’s rear.

“Oh. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Lorrain kind of sunk back in the bed, trying to hide her butt.

“How could I not notice,” Steve asked.

“Well, it’s so small, I thought you wouldn’t care.”

“Well I do! How would you feel if you came home and found one on me?” Steve’s voice was beginning to get loud. Really loud and Lorrain's eyes bulged a bit, seeing the vein pulse on the side of his neck. He was angry. Over a little bit of nothing?

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to calm him down, “It might be kinda sexy.”

“Don’t talk to me like that! What’s gotten into you? Never mind! I’ve already seen what’s gotten into you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Lorrain said, yelling back at him. Who did he think he was anyway? She didn’t recall any part of their vow that said she had to get his permission for everything she did to HER body.

“How can you say that,” Steve asked. “We haven’t even been married a year and already you’re sneaking around behind my back?”

“Honey, lots of people get tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

“Here, take a closer look." Lorrain turned her rear towards Steve so he could get a better look. "It’s just a little butterfly.”

“I’m not talking about the tattoo! It’s the other little thing you have on your ass!”

“What?” Lorrain was confused. She’d only gotten the one tattoo.

“The leprechaun!” Steve’s voice exploded and Lorrain thought his vein was going to pop. The small, naked man behind Lorrain waved at her, as though reminding her he was there, and then slapped her on the ass, leaving a red mark on top of the butterfly.

“What about him,” Lorrain asked, reaching behind her and smacking the leprechaun back.

“He’s in our bed!”

“And?”

“With you!”

“It’s Saint Patrick’s Day.” Lorrain said, as though that explained everything.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Steve looked around, beginning to wonder if there was a hidden camera and he was the victim of a practical joke.

“Well,” Lorrain said as though talking to a child, “they say if you catch a leprechaun on Saint Patrick’s Day, you get his pot of gold.”

“Yes?” Steve waited for her explanation.

“Well, when I was in the kitchen this morning, I looked out the window and saw him. I rushed right out and tackled him to the ground.” Lorrain smiled, proud of how quickly she had acted.

“What does that have to do with him being in OUR bed?” Steve rubbed a hand across his forehead. He was getting a headache.

“Well, when I tackled him, I knocked the air out of him, so I brought him in here to lie down.”

“He seemed to be breathing okay when I walked in,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Well, after he rested for a bit, I told him I wanted his pot of gold.”

”Is that what he calls it,” Steve asked, glaring at the leprechaun.

The leprechaun shrugged his shoulder.

“But he said he could only give it to me if I were Irish, which I am.”

“Get to the part about you having to get undressed,” Steve growled.

“Well, I had to prove that I was Irish,” Lorrain explained.

“How do you do that naked,” Steve asked, clearly losing his patience.

“He’s also a doctor,” Lorrain said.

Steve slapped his hand against his forehead. “Imagine that. I still don’t see what this has to do with him being in bed with you.”

“He was giving me a physical!”

“He was doing something physical,” Steve growled.

“He had to get a DNA sample.”

“Looked to me like he was leaving one.”

“I don’t know why you’re being this way,” Lorrain complained, I was going to share the gold with you.

“Do you really believe he’s going to give you a pot of gold?” Steve asked, thinking that perhaps the peroxide had gone to her brain.

“Well, I’ll have to wait for the DNA results.”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know,” Lorrain said, looking towards the sprite. “Ask him.”

Steve looked towards the little man who was in the process of putting his green suit back on.

“Don’t look at me,” the leprechaun said. “I was just taking a shortcut to a costume party.”

“A costume party.” Steve asked.

“Yes, but you know what they say about blonds on Saint Patrick’s Day. If you find one that still believes in leprechauns, you have to get her pot of gold.” Then, pulling his pants back up, he dove out the window yelling behind him,

“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”