Fractious Read online

  * * *

  chapter 2

  That tree and I became really good friends. I sat and watched it for another week before things got really weird. I didn't see anything else strange, at least nothing that caught my eye. I was there twenty four seven, so I couldn't have missed anything.

  I was eating leaves and begging water off passers by so I was able to live, but still, I was skinnier at the end of that week than I had been before my two week seclusion from the world. I began to think that the leprechaun knew I was watching his tree and wouldn't come out again. So, on a Friday, I went back to my bench and stopped watching the tree.

  But the tree continued to watch me. Much to my dismay, Crista was also watching me.

  Now Crista is a pretty girl. She's a few inches shorter than me and has long blonde hair that she ties back in a pony tail. She's slim but not too slim, with a little meat on her, that gives her some nice curves. Pretty but not my type, although I don't really have a type so maybe she was my type, after all. I liked her because she seemed to be a somewhat nice girl, but as far as going any farther, I doubted she saw me that way.

  I was annoyed by the fact that she saw me making friends with an elm tree on a daily basis. I wasn't ready to give up my leprechaun quest, and she obviously wasn't about to just let me go insane without an intervention.

  "Look, Guy," she said, as she sat down next to me on the park bench that day. "I think you've lost it."

  "Lost what?" I said, looking at her with curiosity.

  "Your mind?" she said with a hint of sarcasm. "That ball of muscle inside your skull."

  "Yeah," I muttered, "I think the leprechaun might be responsible for part of that."

  "What's all this about leprechauns?" she said. "I've heard of obsessions, but man."

  "I'm serious." I had no clue as to why I was even talking to her when my feet and legs worked well enough to get me the hell out of there without too much embarrassment. Instead, I was still talking and well on the way to mortification. "I saw a leprechaun. He walked past me, flipped me off and went into that tree right over there."

  Crista raised one eyebrow and looked over at the tree. I was beginning to think that her eyebrow was actually stuck there and I had never noticed that before. Then it happened. Not her eyebrow raising or even lowering for that matter, but the tree.

  Out of the side of the elm, the little man emerged. He came right over to me, jumped up on the bench, took off his bright green top hat and whacked me over the head with it.

  Stunned, I rubbed my head. Even though it hadn't really hurt, I was still shocked. "What'd you do that for?"

  I heard Crista say, "Who are you talking to?"

  The leprechaun said, "Fuck's your problem?" in a perfectly normal American accent.

  I was expecting the typical Irish accent typically associated with leprechauns and was highly disappointed. "I don't have a problem," I told him.

  He stood before me, real as the pigeons on the statue of Frank Sinatra that dominated the park. "You have been sitting in front of my fucking tree for the last week," he said. "You gotta have some kinda problem to be doing that."

  "What difference does it make?" I said, still rubbing my head where his bright green top hat had hit me. "You'll just disappear into it anyway."

  "Well you've been sitting your dumb ass in front of my door, and I can't leave if you're sitting in front of my door."

  "You live in a tree?" I said.

  "Where else should I live?!" he yelled, and planted his hands on his hips.

  "I dunno," I shrugged. "A house maybe? An apartment? In the sewer? Hell, live in your car, but people do not live in trees!"

  Now, during this little exchange Crista had moved to the far end of the bench and looked as if she was getting ready to bolt. You have to give her props for not getting up and running away the instant I began talking to the leprechaun she so obviously could not see.

  "So," I said after a moment had passed during which I stopped rubbing my head, "are you a leprechaun?"

  "Fuck you!"

  "A foul mouthed leprechaun?"

  "I'm not a damn leprechaun!" he yelled at me. "Stay away from my tree. Stay away from my door. And stay the hell away from this park! I catch you here again and you're gonna lose what's most precious to you."

  Unable to think of anything precious at all, I said, "What would that be?"

  "Your balls, damn it!" He whacked me over the head with his bright green top hat once more, before donning it and sauntering off to his tree. He disappeared into it again and was gone completely.

  I sat there, more dumbfounded than usual.

  "What was that?" Crista said.

  Her voice brought me back to what I usually knew as reality. "The leprechaun," I said matter-of-factly. "He told me to stop sitting in front of his door. And he hit me with his bright green top hat." I rubbed my head again, realized what I was doing, and stopped. "He cusses a whole hell of a lot."

  "A cussing, green top hat wearing leprechaun," Crista said, as if she were trying to get her head around the concept and failing miserably.

  "Bright green top hat," I corrected. "Did I forget to mention that it was bright green?"

  "Yes," she said. "And I think you should go see a doctor. Like, now."

  "He was here!" I insisted, suddenly and insistently. I grabbed her hand and put it on top of my head. "Feel the lump? Right there. That's where his hat hit me!"

  Crista pulled her hand away. "You should really go see someone," she said. Then she walked away.

  I watched her go, thinking to myself about what had just occurred. A little man who stated that he was not a leprechaun and apparently did not want to be called such had just hit me over the head with a bright green top hat, cussed at me, and then gone back into his tree. I was just beginning to think that maybe the gunman had hit me harder than the doctors thought when the little man, who was not a leprechaun and apparently did not want to be called such, suddenly reappeared out of his tree again. He sauntered over to me, bright green top hat in hand then used said bright green top hat to hit me in the face. My head rocked backwards on my neck before I turned and locked my eyes on his face.

  "What was that for?" I said with a slur.

  "I don't fucking like you." He returned to his tree and disappeared.

  I went home.

  * * * *

  I tried really hard to draw the leprechaun that was not a leprechaun but who I could not stop calling a leprechaun because that was what I first identified him as. The best I could come up with was a stick figure wearing a bright green top hat. The bright green top hat was definitely the best part of my drawing and there was no other likeness to the real figure at all. I wasn't ready to doubt myself though. I'd seen him a total of three times. Twice he'd hit me and once he'd given me the finger. There was nothing in his demeanor to make me believe that he wasn't real.

  "Okay, Fractious," I said to myself, "the real question isn't is he a leprechaun or not but how the hell does he get in and out of that tree?"

  I began to devise a plan. Using a disguise, I would go down to the park and sit on a bench but not my normal bench. He knew my normal bench, of that I was sure. In my clever disguise, I would wait and watch until the leprechaun who was not a leprechaun reappeared, no matter how long it took.

  The next morning I put on a fedora, a trench coat and a pair of dark sunglasses I just happened to have in my closet for such an occasion and went to sit on a bench on the opposite side of the park from where I usually sat. I still had a good view of the leprechaun's tree and my disguise was good enough so he would never recognize me. Hopefully, if Crista was there with her neighbor's kid, she wouldn't recognize me either. And hopefully no one would call the cops.

  I sat for two hours, pretending to read the newspaper. I never noticed it was upside down until the leprechaun who was not a leprechaun appeared from his tree. He sauntered right over to me, took off his bright green top hat and whacked me over the head.

  "How'd
you know it was me?" I said, rubbing my head in a general repeat of the previous day.

  "You think that just because I'm short that I'm stupid?"

  "I'm not sure," was my answer.

  "What's your name, kid?" he said, and settled down on the bench beside me.

  I took off my dark sunglasses and stashed them in one of the many pockets of my trench coat. "Guy," I said, pronouncing it properly so he'd make no mistake.

  He repeated it properly, although with a touch of disbelief. "Serious? Who gave you a shitty name like that?"

  "My mother," I said defensively. "She was French."

  He threw his hands up in the air. "That explains everything."

  "Not everything," I said. "Doesn't explain why I can see you."

  "Yeah," he said with a growl. "I don't know why you can see me either. That reminds me." He took off his bright green top hat and hit me again.

  Angry, I said, "Why do you keep doing that?!"

  "Doesn't make sense," the leprechaun who didn't like being called a leprechaun muttered to himself. "Usually I find them in the emergency room," he continued, still muttering to himself. "You been hit on the head recently?" he said.

  "Yes."

  "Okay, now it makes sense."

  I blinked.

  "I'm Cu," he said.

  "Koo?" I repeated, while still blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to un-see him.

  "It's Irish, asshole."

  "So you really are a leprechaun," I said, feeling a bit triumphant.

  "Cu," he repeated. "C-u. And I'm not a fucking leprechaun. I'm one of the Tuatha Dé."

  "What the hell's that?" I said.

  The leprechaun who was not a leprechaun and apparently wanted to be called one of the Tuatha Dé said, "Never you mind. Point is, a certain somebody likes you and since that certain somebody has authority over me, I'm here to bring you with me."

  "To where? Leprechaun land?" I ducked the swinging bright green top hat but he clocked me in the back of the head. "I mean, to Tuatha Dé land?"

  "Listen to me, fucker," the Tuatha Dé who I will no longer call a leprechaun because it apparently pisses him off royally said. "You come with me or I kill you. ¿Comprende?"

  "What's that mean?" I said, rubbing the back of my head.

  "Get up," he said.

  I did. "Is that what comprende means?" I said.

  He ignored this to say, "Since you're so damned interested in that tree which happens to be my home, I'm going to take you there. Get it?"

  I nodded, then shook my head.

  He hopped down off the bench and grabbed hold of my right hand and began to drag me. I planted my feet but he was surprisingly strong for a leper-- A Tuatha Dé. He yanked me right off my feet and began to drag me back to his elm tree.

  There wasn't much I could do about it, since he was so damned strong, so I just went along with it. I didn't fight him nor did I make any attempt to get back on my feet and walk like a normal human being, although I was beginning to feel less and less than a normal human being as the minutes passed.

  Anybody who was watching this scene unfold would have seen a man in a fedora and detective-like trench coat sliding along the ground without any help from any seen being. Anybody probably would have either been intrigued or gone to a psychiatrist, which is probably what I should have done upon first seeing the little man in the bright green top hat. Instead, I was being dragged towards a tree.

  Cu stopped before his tree and looked down at my baffled face. "Now, this might feel a little funny, but you'll get used to it."

  I wouldn't have been able to heed his warning even if I'd tried. But since I had no idea what exactly was in store for me, I didn't even bother to try.

  * * *

  chapter 3

  I found myself face up on the floor of what appeared to be a home cut into the middle of a tree that was much larger than the tree I'd come to think of as The Leprechaun Tree. I knew I'd have to rethink that name, since what I was dealing with apparently wasn't a leprechaun but a Tuatha Dé. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Cu bent over me and set a metal bucket down on my chest. "You might need that."

  I sat up and promptly made good use of the bucket.

  Cu gave me a disgusted look as I handed it back to him. "Gross," he said. "What the hell have you been eating?"

  "Flour paste," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Not bad once you get used to it."

  "You're disgusting," he said, putting the bucket aside. He stuck out his tongue in a grossed out manner and sat on the floor beside me. He grabbed my chin in his hand and moved my head around, examining me closely. "You'll live. Not much good you'll do me, though."

  "Then why'd you bring me here?" I said, as I looked around.

  "I was ordered," Cu said.

  "Oh," was my answer.

  The room I was in looked like something out of a Tolkien novel. I half expected a couple of Hobbits to come waltzing by. The walls were obviously part of the tree and there were roots strangling a coat rack in the far corner. The furniture was plain wood with no stain whatsoever and looked to be made from untouched and untainted tree branches. The dining table's legs had knobs and knots in them as did the chairs'. A bed sat in a corner with brown burlap-looking linens on it. The bed was unmade, if that makes any difference.

  The kitchen looked like the rest of the place, except there was a mini-Frigidaire rumbling away, with its white polished front surface showing a wavy reflection of the room. It was the only modern amenity I could see. A tree root studio apartment. Everything was Hobbit sized. I couldn't have fit my top half in the bed let alone my long legs. Perfect Cu sized furniture.

  "So where am I?" I said as I got to my feet.

  "Mind your head," Cu said.

  I promptly smacked the top of my head against the ceiling.

  "You need to work on your timing," I said, as I once again found myself rubbing the top of my head. "Again I ask, where am I?"

  "This is my home," Cu said, standing as well, although his head came nowhere near the ceiling, even with his bright green top hat on. "Wanna beer?"

  "Um, sure?" I said, standing bent over to accommodate the not so high as I first thought ceilings. "And where exactly is your home?"

  "In your favorite elm tree," Cu said, opening the Frigidaire and bringing me a Stella Artois.

  "Seriously?" I took the beer.

  "Yes, I live in that tree," Cu said. He rolled his eyes as if he had already explained this to me a dozen times and not just a couple. As if he expected me to get it after only a couple of explanations.

  "No," I said, since I hadn't been talking about the tree at all. "I mean you seriously drink this crap?"

  "What do you expect me drink?" he snarled.

  "I dunno, Guinness?"

  He took off his bright green top hat.

  I ducked, expecting an impact, but instead he just hung it up on a coat rack.

  "Some people never learn," he said.

  "Especially if you don't teach them properly," I muttered. "Or let them ditch class."

  "What did you say?" He turned on me as if he was going to attack, with or without his bright green top hat.

  I felt a hint of my old fear again and cringed.

  "You're messed up, man," he said. "What did you say your name was again?"

  "Did I?"

  "Did you what?"

  "Tell you my name?"

  Cu raised an eyebrow. "That's why I'm asking, isn't it?" He gave his head a shake and made a disgusted sound.

  "Guy," I said quietly.

  He chuckled. "Oh, yeah, you did tell me. You gotta last name?"

  "Fractious," I said. "Guy Fractious."

  "What kind of stupid name is that?"

  "Not one I would have given myself," I said. And seriously; Guy was not my first choice in names. If I had had a say, I'd have been named Carlo or Brad. Certainly not Guy. And certainly not Cu. And most certainly not Fractious. My middle name makes it all the more worse
but I'm not about to reveal that until the perfect plot point. Hell, I never revealed my middle name to anyone until about a quarter of the way into this story. But anyway, "What the hell kinda name is Cu?" I said.

  "I told you, it's Irish."

  "But you don't sound Irish. You don't have the accent. And you said you aren't a leprechaun."

  He glared at me with his badass blue eyes. "You think all short people are leprechauns? And you think all leprechauns are Irish?"

  "If they wear green top hats I do."

  Cu had me back on the ground in a second, before I even knew what had happened. Even now, I still can't figure out what happened. He showed me one of his pudgy, balled up fists and held it in front of my nose for emphasis. "I don't like you," he said. "I don't want you here and if I could just dump you back in your world I would. But I was told to bring you here so I did. There are some people you just don't argue with. Now you are coming with me and you aren't going to make anymore cracks or you'll be prying my fist out of your brain with a crowbar."

  I couldn't help myself. It's just my nature. Or maybe I can blame it on my name... "How could I be functioning to even use a crowbar if your fist is wedged in my brain?"

  * * * *

  I followed behind Cu with two pieces of tissue paper stuffed into my still-bleeding nose, although the river had finally dwindled to a simple trickle. Finally. Every now and then I sniffed and tasted blood in my mouth but the first time I spit it out, Cu turned on me and struck me with his bright green top hat. He couldn't reach my head if I wasn't sitting or bending down so he hit me where he could reach me, which was my midsection. Since I still had at least one minor crack in one of my ribs, a strike with a bright green top hat just once was enough to make me learn my lesson. It hurt enough to make me stop spitting and start swallowing.

  A couple of times during our trek I wished for that good old metal bucket I'd encountered upon my arrival in this world, but then I thought about Cu making me clean it out before we left on this part of our journey and decided I didn't so much want the bucket anymore. I say "this part of our journey" because I knew, even then, that this little trip in Tuatha Dé world wasn't going to be just some three hour tour. If Cu was that pissed about my being in his world, I had a feeling I'd be here a while.