Chapter 2

It was nearly dinner time when Sean returned home to find the back door of the house was locked. Thinking it was an accident, he knocked on the door. He shouted, "Someone accidentally locked the door. Let me in."

"I'm not going to let you in," his mother shouted back.

"Why not?" Sean asked through the closed door.

"You tricked me," his mother said. "I didn't raise my son to be a Leprechaun."

"Mother! Let me in the house."

His mother said, "I've got your girlfriend."

"What do you mean, you've got her?"

His mother said, "She's here in the house and you're out there. I'm holding her for ransom."

"You can't hold her for ransom. Her mother would kill you," Sean said.

"It'll cost you that gold nugget to get her back," his mother said.

"It's gone."

"Gone?" his mother asked.

"Yes, it's gone."

"I'm sure you added it to your hoard," his mother said.

"I don't have a hoard," Sean said.

His mother said, "You're acting tricky – just like a Leprechaun. That means you must have a hoard of gold stashed away somewhere."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't have any gold?" Sean said.

"You're just saying that," Sean's mother said.

"I'm not just saying it, I'm saying it because it is true."

"I'm your mother and this is how you treat me?

"I gave birth to you at significant risk to my life. I went into labor on a dark and stormy night with torrential rain, lightning, thunder, hail, tornadoes, and hurricanes. I had to trudge through a blizzard, with snow drifts ten feet deep, to reach the hospital. I was in labor for a whole month. The doctors said they'd never seen such a difficult delivery. I carried you home across a burning desert giving you the last of my meager share of water. Then I support you through your childhood by working my poor fingers to the bone.

"I've sacrificed everything for my poor baby boy. I had a promising career in the movies ... there was talk of making me a Bond girl. I gave up the chance to be Sean Connery's love interest just so I could be a loving stay at home mother. Talk about sacrifice ... you can't sacrifice any more than that.

"I had political ambitions, too. The Democrats wanted me to run for the House of Representatives and the Republicans wanted me to run for the Senate. The Independents wanted me to run for President. The Libertarians wanted to put me on the Supreme Court. The Communists ... well ... they wanted me to have sex with Stalin.

"I never did figure that one out.

"Did I pursue my political ambitions? No, I stayed at home to raise my little baby boy.

"How do you repay me? You repay me by having a stash of gold hidden away somewhere. You turn into a Leprechaun. You play tricks on your own mother. Woe is me. Where did I go wrong?"

"Mother."

"Don't interrupt me. I was just getting on a roll," his mother said.

"You forgot the violin music in the background," Sean said.

Sean's mother said, "Darn, I always forget to do that. Hold on a minute."

"Don't bother, it's not going to work," Sean said rolling his eyes.

"Mothers can be a little difficult at times, wouldn't you say?"

Sean turned around to find a male Mallard duck standing in the yard watching him. It was a fine example of the species. It spread it's wings and turned in a circle in the duck version of posing.

"Were you talking to me?" Sean asked.

"Yes, I was."

Looking at the locked door, Sean said, "My mother can be a little more difficult than most, but she's not as bad as some."

"By the way, my name is Henri," the duck said giving his name a very French pronunciation.

"Hi, I'm Sean. It's nice to meet you, Henry."

"It's Henri, not Henry. You have to use the French pronunciation," the duck said. "I'm a duck of distinction."

"That's a nice way to pronounce Henry," Sean said.

"It's French. Didn't you know that all Mallards are French?" Henri asked.

"I didn't know that. I thought your species originated from Siberia."

"We're French. Our name comes from the French word, Mallart."

"Hey, are you the duck that's supposed to become my pet?" Sean asked.

"Pet? No! I'm your familiar," Henri said.

"It's the same thing, isn't it?" Sean asked.

He wasn't quite clear on the distinction between a pet and a familiar. As far as he knew, they were the same.

Henri answered, "Any old duck can be a pet, but only I can be a familiar."

"That explains the difference," Sean said deciding he was going to have to look it up on the web.

Sean's mother shouted, "Why are you quaking?"

"I'm talking to Henri."

"Who is Henri?"

"He's my duck."

His mother shouted, "You don't have a duck."

"I do now," Sean shouted.

His mother opened the door and looked out. She eyed the duck. She rubbed her chin in thought.

"Duck a l'Orange," his mother said.

Indignant, Henri said, "I'm a Mallard, not a l'Orange Duck ... whatever that is."

"You're not going to eat my duck," Sean said.

His mother said, "You've never tasted my Duck a l'Orange."

"A recipe!" Henri screamed. "She looks at me and the first words out of her mouth is the name of a recipe. Merde!"

"You're not going to eat my duck," Sean said.

She asked, "What are you going to do with the duck?"