Dear Leprechauns

This year is the year. Come March 17, I won’t fall for the old “your shoelaces are untied” a second time. Nah, this year I’m stylin’ velcro and you’ll have plenty of time to scope out my snazzy kicks while I’m shaking you upside down, emptying your pockets of their gold and Lucky Charms.

I’ve been practicing my Leprechaun freezing stare, boning up on Leprechaun reverse-psychology and I’ve been running the scenario over and over in my brain.

I remember one year, I thought I’d done it, I was elated, I’d finally caught one of you mangy buggers.

I’d gone to take out the garbage, noticed some suspicious movement by one of the bins, went to investigate and saw a tiny little bearded humanoid.

“Ha! Finally!” I screamed. “Take me to your gold! You can’t move while I stare at you cobbler!”

“No dude. You’re thinking of leprechauns. I’m a Clurichaun.”

I was devastated. A quick look at its grease-stained, tiny blue jeans and miniature leather jacket with accompanying pompadour confirmed he was surely not a leprechaun. It got me very smashed on its mystical wine as a consolation. But I could tell the it did it so out of pity and not camaraderie.

Leprechauns beware.  I’m not going to be denied.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

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Dear Dr. Hoffenblauf

Sometime last week my left eye began twitching involuntarily. It spasms as if a pocket of air is trying to escape. It doesn’t hurt, but is odd to have an eyelid sputtering like a hummingbird.

Somebody told me eye spasms are symptomatic of Iron deficiency, which is likely as my recent diet consists of Cap’n Crunch, Slurpees, Coffee and Irish whiskey. However, from what I’ve read, there is no evidence to link eye twitches to Iron deficiency. Stranger still, many medical experts are at a loss to explain how eye twitches are caused at all. Could it be a voodoo hex? Or aliens beaming their Tivo selections into my brain? The dead attempting communication from the other side?

Please advise,

Fergis McGillicuddy

PS: Please don’t tell me that brain worms are eating their way to the outside world through my peepers. I’d rather have them go through the nasal cavity.

Dear 2007

Hey good lookin’,

It was funny of you to lock me up in a poorly-lit room and force me to sleep nearly 23 hours a day. I don’t hold it against you. There is nothing like ringing in a fresh year with a 16 day hibernation. When I woke up I recalled the start of 2006…apparently I made notes:

Annotated Predictions for 2006:

1. Sale of post-Apocalyptic goggles increases.

My sources tell me this is true. It makes sense…nobody wants to get Mad Max-sand in their eyes while they are trading handjobs for water.

2. George W. sprouts horns and a tail in front of the Washington press Corp. The White House turns red.

Well…George had a rough year. On Jan. 11, 2007 he said the best way to get troops out of Iraq was to order another 21,500 in to Iraq. The he sprouted horns and a tail and spat fireballs at the Washington journalists. However, that was in 2007…so it doesn’t count.

3. Another season of Survivor goes unnoticed.

Is Survivor even on television anymore?

4. Dr. Phil is charged with having sex with a goat.

Is Dr. Phil even on television anymore?

5. That goat is Michael Jackson.

What Dr. Phil and Michael Jackson do with each other under the influence of Pinot Noir and pretty sunsets is their business as far as the public is concerned.

6. China lands on the moon and immediately sets up the first sweatshop in space. It makes American flags.

Turns out the first sweatshop in space makes zero-gravity Mardi Gras beads.

7. I run as a Green party candidate in the next Canadian federal election. The next election will be called as soon as the results of the last election (Jan.23) are returned. I lose to a Conservative moose named Curtis Taxless.

So far—no election. Conservative moose have heavily fortified their interests during incumbency. My chances of election are bleak.

8. Google will start a micronation in the South Pacific. They threaten to remove their search engine from the web unless the UN recognizes their sovereignty. Google-opia is born as Kofi Annan is an avid gmail user.

Sadly YouTube got to it first. It’s pixelated and sort of boring to watch…unless a person is at work.

9. This is the best post of the year.

There were a couple good ones. I like the one about Finola Hackett. She’s spell-tastic.

10. A new style of hat is invented called the trout-stick.

I invented this. I wear it around the house. The prototype needs some work.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Britney Spears’ Crotch

You’ve been hanging out lately. That’s cool I guess. I hang out when I’m at home. It’s no big deal though. I don’t have photographers trying to snap pictures of me exiting vehicles. Plus, I don’t normally wear skirts out in pubic. Uh…I mean public.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: Tell the rest of your body to go easy on the post-natal Mojitos.

To Club-Goers With Their Unhappy Faces On

Occasionally, I’ll put down my pen and glass of bourbon and head for the Avenue for some Whyte night life. There’s nothing quite like waiting outside a club in the Canadian winter for 30 minutes out to consume $6 draft beer and dance a little.

What could be better? Well, there seems to be a growing number of people on the weekends wearing their unhappy faces. These people in the latest styles dancing and drinking while looking as if they just came from a funeral. Don’t worry beautiful sad people, your cat didn’t die in a microwave, your mom still hasn’t found those spring break videos you made after drinking tequila for the first time,  and your boss hasn’t discovered you haven’t finished any work since you’ve started your job. There is no reason to look so upset.

Perhaps some people realize the promise of drunken casual sex and bathroom coke won’t rescue them from themselves, yet continue to engage in the nightlife out of habit. Who knows? Just try to look amused when I throw up on your shoes…

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Chocolate Milk

My grandma told me that you came from brown cows. I believed that for a long time. Maybe I still do. I’m not sure. I’ve never seen cows giving chocolate milk. I live in a big city. No cows.

Most parents hate it when their kids order chocolate milk in a restaurant and proceed to blow bubbles in it. I always blew bubbles in my chocolate milk. Restaurant owners must like blowing bubbles in chocolate milk or they wouldn’t provide customers with straws in every glass served.

I rarely buy straws anymore. Not because I don’t like them, but because I always forget to put them on my shopping list. I should start drinking milkshakes again. I’d remember to pick up straws. Milkshakes are hard to drink without a straw.

Anyways, I am writing to tell you that I got too drunk last night while watching one of my favourite Alberta bands. They are called the Dudes. If you had ears I’d suggest that you listen to them. Later, I spent a portion of the night worshiping the porcelain altar, engaging in the big cough. It sucked. In the morning my mouth was dry and my stomache was sore.

I tried some water but it wasn’t delicious enough. So, I drank some chocolate milk and I felt better. Much better.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy