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For St. Patrick’s Day, 2019

imageThere was no question about it, Paddy Fitzpatrick was lucky. Everyone knew it.

Since that serendipitous day so long ago, when wandering aimlessly in the country, despondent, mourning the loss of his one true love, he had been exceedingly lucky. It began, as these things so often do, with an accident, an unfortunate event without which a fortunate event would have been missed. It was nothing serious. A broken shoelace, nothing more; but as he knelt to tie the broken ends together, cursing bad luck added to worse, his eyes came to rest on something wonderful and rare. It was a four-leaf clover.

Whether the acquisition of the clover merely changed his outlook on life, and so enhanced his performance, precipitating improved outcome from his efforts, or the clover itself actually changed his luck, is open to debate. In any case, from that day forward everything good seemed to come his way.

He had met the beautiful Erin, and after a whirlwind romance, they were married. Their love seemed to grow exponentially day after day. It seemed as if the honeymoon would never end. Now, a year later, he was the proud father of beautiful twins, a boy and a girl. Life could not be sweeter.

On the job, the quality of his work was so improved that he was being noticed by the proprietors of the firm and considered for much bigger things. New employees called him “Mr. Fitzpatrick.” An executive office and company car were in his future.

Paddy was certain his good fortune was due to his four-leaf clover. It was in his suit pocket at all times.

One morning, however, Paddy could not find the clover.

Frantically, he searched the house, but it was not there. In a panic, he tried to recall when he had last seen it. He finally recalled it was in his gray suit that he had dropped off at the dry cleaners.

He rushed to the cleaners only to find that the work had been completed and his suit was ready to be picked up. He searched the suit and found the four-leaf clover, still in one piece but now faded and flattened from the dry cleaning.

From that day on, Paddy’s fortunes changed. Life was good, but it was no longer perfect. The little inconveniences were always there. His wife seemed more irritable. The twins seemed a little naughtier. His career stalled. Paddy’s life had changed.

He still carried the clover, but he was certainly not living the charmed life he was used to and had come to expect.

Finally, he had had enough. He confided in his wife, who had previously been unaware of his clover. He told her of the day when, at the end of his rope, he had found his good-luck charm, and how he had carried it every day, and how the most amazingly good luck had been his. Then he told her of that fateful day when he had forgotten the clover in the pocket of his suit when he dropped it off to be cleaned and pressed, and how everything had gone downhill from there.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, comforting him. Then, with the wisdom of a loving wife, added, “You know, it’s never wise to press your luck.”

Posted 2019·03·15 by David Kjos
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Posted in: Humor? · St Patrick’s Day

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