I certainly could have used a Leprechaun trap about 26 years ago. I forget the exact date, but it was a beautiful Indian Summer evening in 1990 . My wife-to-be (WTB) and some of her softball team along with significant others went to Harrington's Bar on Turk and Larkin Street , the team's sponsor.
In the course of the evening my WTB's best friend (BF) had to go to her car to get something and asked my WTF to accompany her. They said they were stepping out for a moment. After many moments had passed, my WTB and her BF hadn't returned. I decided to see what the delay was.
It was nighttime, but a full moon clearly illuminated Turk Street. It was devoid of automobile or pedestrian traffic. Not knowing where my WTB's BF had parked her car, I didn't know where to go. That was solved when I heard my name called. The two ladies had their backs pressed up against a building across Turk Street. They pointed in my direction.
There, in the moonlight was a little man, naked from the waist down dancing to music that only he could hear, clearly oblivious to his feminine audience. WTB and BF were closer to Harrington than the little dancing man was. They were both athletic enough to out-run him. It seemed as though they were enjoying the performance.
In the middle of Turk Street I saw a pair of discarded pants. Picking them up with the blade of my pocket knife, I approached the dancing, half-naked little man with the pants extended at arm's length. I gestured for WTF and BF to get back to Harrington's while I returned that very important item of apparel to its owner. Not a word was exchanged between us.
Back in Harrington's I told the group what had happened. Fortunately WTB and BF corroborated my story. Then it dawned on me. WHAT IF THAT HAD BEEN A LEPRECHAUN DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT? Instead of handing him his pants, what if I had grabbed him and demanded his pot of gold?
SIGH and Begorrah.