Rory flipped through the tattoo book and finally decided on a tractor. He always fancied himself a plow boy, so this graphic would be the perfect art. A leprechaun looking over his shoulder agreed. Both took off their shirts and had their backs shaved. The tattoo artist used a regular razor on Rory and micro razor on the leprechaun.
“Dude,” said Rory, “you’re jacked.”
Which the leprechaun was because he ate well, mostly sushi, but more so because he was taking human growth hormones and he worked out like a fiend.
“Thanks, man, said the leprechaun.” “I’m just trying to get buffed and maybe catch a break in modeling.”
“With ears like that? You’re going to have a tough time making any money modeling.”
“Tell me about. Christmas is killing me and I’m already in debt. If I could just find that pot of gold.”
“There’s no such thing, dude,” said Rory.
The conversation ended there. Both Rory and the leprechaun endured the two hours it took to finish their tattoos and decided since it was the holiday season they would head over to Frank’s Truck Stop and have a feast.
“Let me ask you something,” started the leprechaun, “Do you think it would be wrong for me to enter the Irish Low Games since I take HGH? I mean, it’s not cheating is it?”
Rory said, “I don’t know what the games are, but if it’s a competition, I say go for it. Every other kind of games has it’s share of chemistry, so why not the ILGs?”
“I don’t know. Won’t that bring disgrace to my family?”
“Family, schmamily. They’ve got to eat, right? Look at you. You’re an Adonis. It’s no debate, you can’t be beaten. Besides, I know somebody who will be able to help you. Eat up and let’s go get you ready for the games and out of debt.”
With that Rory and the leprechaun walked back into town and found the Medic. No one knew his real name, but everyone knew that he was the guy if you were looking for good stuff.
“Ah, Rory, what you no good?”
“Mister Medic, you know, you know. Hey can you help my little, big friend here cover up for the fact that he’s taking HGH? He’s got a competition and needs to win so he can get out of debt.”
The Medic thought for a moment and then said, “I’ve got just the stuff. Take this. These Skittles, they are the diggety, diggety, don’t you know.”
So the leprechaun took the Skittles. He went to the Irish Low Games a pharmacological specimen the likes of no other in leprechaun lore. He won each event. He had the most points and loudest cheers from the high pitched crowd.
He had won.
The prize would be handed out on a podium under a rainbow. The games commissioner wheeled out a pot of gold and pronounced the leprechaun champion. He was never caught and lived debt free ever after.