Rainbow Sex Hello. My name is Randolph. My wife's name is Tilly. We are Leprechauns and we live in New York City.
We were born in Ireland. We were married in Ireland. But then we moved to New York City because… well I'm not quite sure why we moved here. The most likely reason is that the writer of this story lives in New York City and therefore it was the first city that came to his mind. And he wants to write this story fast because he wants to get online and surf the web and buy some books.
But we do live in New York City. And we are leprechauns. We are very short. I am four foot six and my wife is four foot six. We are also very fat; we like to eat candies. We own a candy store. That is how we make a living. It was either that or a freak show; so we chose the candy store. We also like to eat shit. For breakfast. Every day when we wake up we eat a handful of shit. It's awful nutritious, and awful tasty. We are also socialists. We believe that there should be a maximum wage and that the government should force people to share their money a bit. Our idols are Mr. Phil Long, George Lucas, and David McReynolds. When we are not eating candies we are campaigning for the Socialist Party.
So one day my wife Tilly and I were walking down the street. We were going to Mr. Phil Long's house, where we would be holding a socialist rally. They would also have ample amounts of shit for us to eat.
This reminds me of a time five years ago. You see, what happened was Tilly and I had just opened up our candy store. And we decided to make our candies out of shit. And then the FDA threatened to send us to jail. But then we had them eat our candies. And then they became socialists.
So we were walking down the street. And suddenly a woman walks up to us, points at us, and begins to laugh.
"Why are you laughing at us?" we ask of her.
"My name is Olga. I laugh at short people. Haha! You're short!"
"Why, yes we are a tad bit vertically challenged. But that is no reason to laugh at us."
"I could step on you, ya know?"
"Why, yes you could but we would rather appreciate it if you didn't."
But she stepped on us. She picked her left foot up and brought it down on Tilly. Then she picked her right foot up and brought it down on me.
I thought that she would leave us alone. But then she began to laugh again.
"Why are you laughing this time?"
"You are fat. Haha! You're fat!"
"Why, yes, we are a tad bit horizontally challenged. But that is no reason to laugh at us."
"I bet you roll real well…" she said. Then she pushed Tilly to the ground and gave her a good push and she began to roll down the sidewalk. And then she did the same to me.
"Haha! You people are rolling down the sidewalk! Fat short people are funny! Everybody laugh at the fat short people!"
So we rolled all the way down to the end of the sidewalk. And then we threw up.
"Haha! You threw up!"
Suddenly a David McReynolds poster fell out of my pocket.
"You people are socialists too? Next you'll be telling me your name is Walter! But you're short so I guess that's impossible."
"Why, yes, we are a tad bit economic freedomatically challenged. But that is no reason to laugh at us."
"You're socialists. That's every reason to laugh at you."
Then we began to walk to Mr. Phil Long's house.
"Yeah, so you like to eat shit don't you? You eat shit for breakfast every day! You socialist shit eaters make me sick!" She began to say as she followed us.
"Why, yes, we are a tad bit dietarily challenged, but that is no reason to laugh at us!"
"Yeah, you wanna share the money don't you? Ya know what, Tilly? You have five chins and I only have one. By your socialist standards that's illegal. Can you give me one?"
"I believe that is impossible," Tilly said.
"Oh, I get you socialists! You like being shared to but you don't like sharing! Ha! I know your secret!"
We began to ignore her. But she carried on.
"Yeah. Hey, guess what? I’m a Libertarian. You're a socialist! Haha! Do you speak socialist fluently?"
"Why, Socialist isn't a language!" I lied.
"Yeah, I know socialist. I know what you're saying when you're singing in the hallways! And you say that's an Irish folk song! Yeah right! You're singing in socialist! Hey, I took a political quiz yesterday that I didn't make up myself. Do you wanna take it too? I got Libertarian. I bet I know what you'll get! And I didn't make it up myself. Nope, not me. Dr. Donald Duck made it up. Dr. Donald Duck isn't me. Nuhuh, no siree Bob."
"Listen, would you shut up?" I asked her.
"Haha! You're offended by what I'm saying huh! You stupid socialists! Here, do the socialist jig for me and I'll stop bothering you. Do the socialist jig!"
So I did the socialist jig for her. And then she went away.
Tilly and I were rather disturbed. The aforementioned events happen every single day when we leave our house. That Olga lady comes up to us and follows us around and makes fun of us being socialists and makes us do the socialist jig and steps on us and rolls us down the sidewalk. Then she goes home and beats eggs. Then she comes back, steps on us, rolls us down the sidewalk, and follows us around until we do the socialist jig. Then she beats eggs. Then she looks for people named Walter and beats their eggs. Then she goes home and beats eggs. Then she steps on us, rolls us down the sidewalk, and follows us around. There is something seriously wrong with that woman.
And we were fed up. We had once been happy. There was a time when we were happily married. We had sex every single night. Twice.
HEY! STOP LAUGHING!
We leprechauns have sex too. Even us fat leprechauns. Socialists don't have sex, that's true. But that was before we became socialists.
So now we are socialists and since socialists don't have sex because nobody wants to have sex with socialists even other socialists because socialists are very stupid people (cough PHIL cough) and we socialists are the worst people in the world and Richard Prins is the best person ever and Phil is a socialist and he's a stupid socialist kangaroo and EVERYBODY HATES YOU PHIL.
We are socialists. And socialists don't have sex.
So today was the day that Tilly broke it to me.
"Listen, Randolph. Now that we are socialists I think that our marriage has to end."
"Yes. I know what you mean, Tilly."
"We're the only socialists at the parties that are married. And everybody thinks that we have sex and it is just so utterly embarrassing! I'm sorry this had to happen, but relationships aren't for socialists. Because relationships are for real people, and socialists aren't real people."
"Yes. I agree, Tilly. We are going to have to divorce."
"We can still run the candy store together."
"And we can still go to the rallies together."
"And, best of all, we can still be socialists!"
"Yes, Tilly. You are wonderful."
The writer would like to take the opportunity to say that Mr. Phil Long is a pussy and that's why he has whiskers.
And Randolph would like to take the opportunity to say that he misses Tilly's pussy even though it has whiskers.
And Tilly would like to take the opportunity to say… um I don't know what Tilly wants to say. Screw it. Oh yeah, she wants to take the opportunity to say that she isn't the Tilly that's also named Rachel. She's a different Tilly… she's the leprechaun Tilly not Richard's friend Tilly. Just to avoid confusion there…
And then, suddenly a rainbow appeared!
"Look, Tilly, it's a rainbow!"
"Why, Randolph, isn't it pretty?"
Suddenly the writer stopped writing the story and began to stare at the trippy rainbow.
--------pause for trippiness-------- Okay, back to the story.
"Why, Tilly, maybe there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!"
(I'm switching back to the first person here, just to let you know.)
Tilly and I began to climb the rainbow! We were free once again! We held each other's hands and laughed and jumped and played and we ran all the way to the other end of the rainbow.
There was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
"Why, Tilly, we are rich!"
"Randolph, we are rich!"
Suddenly Olga appeared. She was following Mr. Phil Long around.
"Do the socialist jig, you stupid socialist kangaroo!" she was screaming.
"Hello, Mr. Phil Long," I said.
"Hi. I am a socialist even though I won't admit it. Somebody should piss on me," Mr. Phil Long said. Why did he say that? Because the writer wanted him to. And what the writer of this story says goes! This isn't even a real story! This is just an excuse to say stupid things about Phil being a socialist! Oops, I mean Mister Phil. There's definitely a reason for him being called Mister. (cough WOMAN W/ PENIS cough)
Then Olga noticed that we were rich. "Wait a second, you fat short socialists! You socialists wanna enact a maximum wage! If you socialists come to power then you won't be able to keep all that gold! It will go to government programs that don't work!"
Suddenly I noticed that he was right. Socialistic sharing is only good when you're being shared to.
So I said, "dude, you're right, screw this socialist shit!"
So then we threw all the gold up into the air because we were happy about our newly found fortune.
Then we told Mr. Phil Long and Olga to give us some privacy.
And then we had sex. We had Rainbow Sex.
We weren't socialists anymore. Now we were hardcore Libertarians. We were also Libertarians doing it hardcore. But I don't think that you wanna have a mental picture of fat leprechauns having sex.
What is the moral of this story? If anything, the moral of this story is: It's fun to make fun of Phil because he's very pemdokjenical.