The Mystery of the Leprechaun's Trophy

Written by Moe Zilla, Published on 7/27/2009

"I ain't no leprechaun!" snarled Randy. "I'm not even Irish!"

He was three feet tall, he was dressed in a green suit, and he was beginning to hate St. Patrick's Day. A crowd of children swarmed around him excitedly. "I caught you!" one little girl screamed. "Now give me a pot of gold!"

"If I had a pot of gold, I wouldn't NEED this job," Randy moaned. He'd been so excited when his phone rang that morning and his friend Casey offered him an acting job. But now he knew the bad news: that the audience was two hundred seven-year-olds in a grade school auditorium!

"Let me go!" Randy pleaded.

Suddenly a giant pair of hands lifted Randy from the floor. "Don't embarrass me," Casey teased. "The Mighty Casey" was a professional wrestler on television for half of every year. But he spent the other six months appearing at schools and conventions trying to earn some extra money. "We both need the cash," he reminded Randy, lifting him onto his shoulder. "So wave to the nice crowd."

Randy laughed with Casey and, safe on his shoulder, waved down at the excited children. "Maybe I should hand out boxes of Lucky Charms," Randy joked.

"This wasn't my idea," Casey promised him as they hurried toward the exit. "My career is being managed by a guy named Tony. He thought I'd look even bigger standing next to you!"

"Just get me out of here!" Randy said through a clenched smile, still waving to the crowd.

Casey waved too, one last time, as he backed through the door and rushed into the empty school hallway. He carried Randy under a banner for the grade school's football team, the Fighting Leprechauns. "It figures," muttered Randy.

"I'm sorry," Casey apologized. "But this could get my picture in the paper. It'd be quite a shot—you and me both dressed up and celebrating St. Patrick's Day!" Tony had dropped them both off in front of the school's lobby this morning in his expensive sports car and promised to pick them up when they were finished.

"Can we go home now?" Randy whined.

"We can't," Casey said, lifting him down to the floor. "I promised the teachers that we'd visit their party in the teacher's lounge."

Randy groaned and said he hoped they wouldn't think he was a leprechaun too.

The children were never allowed behind the mysterious door at the end of the hall, but the school's principal, Mr. Carswell, welcomed the two men inside. The teachers had hung green streamers on the walls to help celebrate St. Patrick's Day, and a table at the end of the room was filled with snacks and punch.

"Sorry the children grabbed you," Mr. Carswell said sincerely to Randy. "But our school is famous for our Fighting Leprechaun football team. They won the state grade school championship back in 1983. Their quarterback that season grew up to be a star—he played all through high school, was wooed by a Big Ten college and went on to become a professional football player. He even played in the Super Bowl."

"Did they call him the Fighting Leprechaun?" Randy asked.

Mr. Carswell ignored Randy and continued talking about the school's famous football team. "I've never heard of him," said Casey warmly, "but they sound like they were quite a team."

"Did you see the trophy from that 1983 game? It's at the top of our display case in the lobby. It's over two feet tall, and it's actually worth a lot of money. People like to collect things that remind them of that Super Bowl quarterback. To a collector, it would probably be worth fifty thousand dollars!"

"Unfortunately, it's gone!" shouted Mrs. Huntington.

The elderly teacher had rushed in the door to the lounge, a worried look on her face. "I was just coming from the auditorium, finishing my turn at supervising the students’ party when I noticed. Someone smashed the glass on the display case, and they've stolen the trophy!"

Everyone scrambled to the lobby only to see the school's janitor sweeping up broken glass. All the trophies were still standing on the bottom four shelves inside the tall floor-to-ceiling case. But over the top shelf, a large hole had been broken through the glass, and where the famous trophy had been, there was just an empty shelf.

"I bet I know the little devil who's behind this," Mr. Carswell said.

"Oh, sure. Blame the little person!" Randy said angrily.

"Not you," said Mr. Carswell. "I meant a student named Barry. He's a second-grader and the star football player on the team these days. But everyone tells him he's not as good as the 1983 quarterback, and I think he resents it. Barry's always getting into trouble."

Casey was concerned. "Who was the last person in this lobby?" he asked.

"I was," admitted Mr. Carswell. "All the children were already in the auditorium to see 'The Mighty Casey'. I saw the trophy in its case as I closed the auditorium's doors, just as you two came onto the stage."

"But what about Barry?" Casey asked. "Where was he this whole time?"

"I was on duty in the auditorium just now, during the party. We teachers watch our students carefully, but an event like this it’s easy to be overwhelmed,” Mrs. Huntington said. "It's possible that Barry slipped away. But I know I saw him in the auditorium at some point this morning."

"Does anyone have a key to the display case?" Casey asked.

"I have the only key," admitted Mr. Carswell.

Everyone was concerned about the lost trophy. "This is the worst St. Patrick's Day party ever," Randy complained. But just then, he saw Tony striding down the hall. Casey's manager had finally arrived to pick them up.

"How did it go?" Tony asked.

Casey glared at him and said, "An elementary school? You couldn't find us some place more glamorous to appear?

"You know the truth is ugly," Tony joked. "I can always use more money, and if you make more appearances, I'll earn more!"

The police arrived. The whole town was anxious about the theft of their famous trophy, and local news reporters were already gathering outside, broadcasting stories about the investigation.

In the next hour, the police were busy. They searched every classroom, every desk, the backstage of the auditorium, the teacher’s lounge and even Mr. Carswell's office, but they found no trace of the famous trophy.

Everyone stared, discouraged, at the empty display case until suddenly Randy said something that startled them all.

"You can stop searching," Randy announced. "Because I know where the trophy is."