Two Leprechaun’s Go into a Bar–A Very Short Story . . .

Two leprechauns, Seamus and Angus, go into the Rainbow Lounge, an American bar in Fort Worth, intending to have some fun with the locals. They put on cowboy hats and boots, and enter singing, “Somewhere, over the rainbow,” for that is a leprechaun’s favorite American song. They climb up the barstools having sung their little hearts out. The jukebox is now playing Randy Newman’s song, “Short People.” One pounds on the counter with his shillelagh. “We’ll have a pint and a half,” he said. “For each of us.” The bartender evidently knew something about Irish pubs because he brought each of them a pint of Guinness and a glass of whiskey on the side. “Here you are. Pints for you half-pints.”

Still determined to mess with the bartender’s mind, the other leprechaun said, “I’m in desperate need of a job. Would you hire me?”

“What kind of job do you want? A short-order cook?” the bartender said. “Or you might make a good secretary, writing in short hand in all.”

“Can you turn on that TV above your head there. Maybe there’s a futbol game on.” Angus elbows the other leprechaun, “He probably doesn’t know the difference between American football and soccer.”

The bartender hits the remote and a soccer game came on. The Irish were playing the Swiss.

“I used to be quite the soccer player,” Seamus said.
The bartender smiled. “I would have thought your sport would have been baseball–you know, playing short-stop or something.”
Angus had taken all he could from the smart-ass bartender. “Would you stop the short jokes? I’m getting worked up.”
The bartender wiped the counter, then flipped the towel across Angus’ face. “I always heard leprechauns were short-tempered. Pay for your drinks and get out. You owe me twenty dollars. In gold of course.”
“Well,” Angus said. “You know how this is going to end up. Our gold is buried in Ireland. We’re a little short on funds, so we’re going to have to short-change you.”

*For those of you who haven’t ever heard the song “Short People” by Randy Newman, here are the lyrics:
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
To live

They got little hands
Little eyes
They walk around
Tellin’ great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little feet

Well, I don’t want no short people
Don’t want no short people
Don’t want no short people
`Round here

Short people are just the same
As you and I
(A fool such as I)
All men are brothers
Until the day they die
(It’s a wonderful world)

Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
To love

They got little baby legs
That stand so low
You got to pick em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That go beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin’ peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They’re gonna get you every time
Well, I don’t want no short people
Don’t want no short people
Don’t want no short people
‘Round here