Boston - Stan 'Shiv' Rivers and partner Carlos 'Done Deal' Tavares find themselves one pot of gold to the good this St Patrick's Day. The outfit related their extraordinary feat to but a few hand picked reporters; granting a courtroom style artist rendering but no photographs. The event occurred following a brief rain shower as sunset approached on St Patrick's Day Eve…
"We'd just jumped a T and were chillin' in the Emerald Necklace Back Bay Fens Park, when Stan scoped out a rainbow. We saw its end glowing in a nearby thicket, and from there it was just good business sense" explained Carlos.
"Yup" agreed Stan as he eagerly revealed the brilliant plot. All the while splitting glances between reporters and his newly acquired pot of gold.
"Listen here, we simply headed up wind of Shamus. That's the dude's name - we got to know him and he's one hot shit leprechaun in our book. So anyway, we built a full-on campfire of primo weed and let it waft down to that pimped out green munchkin."
"'Munchkin'? Hold on Stan, now you're mixing 1930's movie fiction with Irish mythology. Take a break and go grab us a couple 40's - I got this.
Alright, so once Shamus got a snoot full, he wasn't going anywhere. Bein' a leprechaun and all, we thought it'd be tough to get the jump on him. No sir. He corked right off and that's when we stuffed his pipe with our best rocks. This was straight up CIA op's right out of the 80's, yeah. We coulda, but there ain't no way me and Stan was jackin' that gold. Everybody knows it's cursed unless the leprechaun hands it over clean.
Then not a minute later, he sprang up and lit that pipe, yeah boy - he was bustin' moves all over the rainbow, I mean straight up fly yo. Me and Stan just laid back and enjoyed the show. We knew as soon as that last rock got smoked, he was ours."
"That's right", agreed Stan as he returned with the frosty elixirs. "His pot o' gold was no match for the pot we was holdin', plus our rocks… that wee man never had a chance. And from the sound of it, he was damn glad to unload his coin. Said all it ever gave him was an achin' back. He coulda done a better job with the iambic pentameter, but I still got his limerick stuck in my head…"
'My name is Shamus with a pot of gold in tow
Can't spend my cursed shekels on a much needed ho.
If my heritage was no factor,
I'd have a vamp chiropractor
Then quit toting this kettle like a dumb mo fo.'
Reporters next queried the partners as to what type of typical gangster fancies would claim their gold; a strip club, pimped out Escalades, mad bling, restocking a depleted drug inventory?
"Were not a couple of stereotypical dumb asses that win the lottery then blow it on more lottery tickets" quipped Carlos. We got more sense than that. What you're looking at here is straight up priceless mythology. After we lease it to a few museums and cash in on book and movie deals, then we're lookin' at some real coin. I figure we'll buy the Sox and Celtics for starters, then look out Pats."
When the pair was asked if they had indeed hornswoggled Shamus out of his gold, the scene turned tense.
"Hornswoggled? You really wanna kick it old school with me, reporter boy? This is east coast bro. You best take that 19th century west coast rap up outta here, before I discombobulate yo' ass and absquatulate with your bitch. Now skedaddle!"