Chris sat patiently strumming his fingers on the guitar hugged close to his chest. He looked at the bag of treasure on the table beside his computer. "It’s just not working", he muttered as he struck a loud cord. "The little leprechaun has tricked me again".
After hours of trying, Chris had been unable to open the leprechaun bag without the ear splitting screech that accompanied every attempt. Chris was getting frustrated by the minute. He had been told the name of the song that Diane had been humming. There was no mistake, he was singing the right song, but the treasure still was beyond his reach.
Out of desperation Chris leaned forward and started to type on the computer keyboard. Before he had been trapped in the computer, Chris had decided to ask his list friends for help. "It’s always best to go with your first choice", he said quietly, "I’ll ask the Yahoo group for help." More frustrated than ever Chris knew that McAdams had sent him on another wild goose chase. But the last time I tried to get help from the group, I got mixed up with a bunch of sick little people because of all the email responses. I dare not go through that again, he decided.
Chris’ finger stroked the keys as he composed a message to the list. "As you have been keeping up with the story "A Bit Of Irish Stew" started by Jeri Neufeld and continued by numerous other list friends, you surely know that I am in a dilemma trying to open the bag of gold from an ornery little leprechaun. Help, I need your help", he paused just long enough to cast a dirty look at the bag of gold. "I have a puzzle that I need your help to solve. I have a bag of treasures that I can only open by singing a special song. The name of the song is "Talk To Me". I have tried to sing it, hum it, whistle it, even tap my fingers to the tune, but it screeches just the same, no matter which way I try. I need suggestions from my loyal fans about what I’m missing here, I need to figure out what I’m doing wrong with the song. I am anxiously waiting for your replies" he typed in bold letters. "What can I possibly be doing wrong that is preventing me from opening this enchanted bag."
Just about to hit the "send" button Chris stopped. "NO", he spoke silently. "I’ll not send this message to the full list, I don’t want to flood the web again and have a bunch of sick little people making the computer crash. But, how can I decide on the people I want to ask for help?" Chris asked himself.
A few moments of deep thought caused Chris to shout out his answer, "I know! I’ll address it only to those people who put me into this story in the first place." His fingers flew over the printed pages of the story lying next to his computer. "Here they are", he exclaimed loudly. "A copy of the story, and here are the people who have written chapters for it. I’ll ask them for help."
A long time passed before Chris entered the last name of authors from the story and at last he hit the "send" button. "There", he sighed, "maybe those that caused this story and my dilemma can help me arrive at the answer. He slumped back in the chair and waited for answers.
Chris knew that his list fans were from all over the globe. They came from his local towns and from countries such as America, Argentina, Australia, Germany, Holland, Iran, Mexico, Russia, Scotland, South Africa, Sweden, Turkey, and Wales, just to name a few. Because they listen to his music all over the world they were awake at different times of the day. He also knew that some of his fans were sleeping while others were out working or having fun. "There will be a long wait for all the replies", he muttered as the day slipped away.
Chris had just finished his fifth cup of tea when the first email from his fans "dinged" on his computer. "All right", he shouted and jumped up from his chair, "now let’s see what my fans can do".
The first reply came from Jacqui Bodbijl, "Dear Chris, My friends Karianne Davies and Sarah Canavan, as well as myself, think that the answer to your dilemma may be for you to sing the words accompanied by your beautiful wife Diane."
"That’s a fabulous idea," he shouted aloud, "why didn’t I think of that?" The words were barely out of his mouth before Chris was running up the stairs to wake Diane. "Come on", he rushed Diane from a comfortable bed, "you have to sing with me. It’s the only way to open the treasure".
Hours passed as Chris and Diane sang verse after verse of "Talk to Me". But to the frustration of both of them, the bag of gold continued to screech when they tried to open it. "You might as well face it Chris", Diane said at last, "This is not the way to open the bag".
A disappointed Chris finally gave in and once again sat at the computer. "Sorry Diane", he apologized as he stroked the keys to get another email, "guess you don’t need to be here any longer, Thanks for trying" he sighed.
The second reply came from Angela Owen. "Dear Chris, I have been writing to Colette Gifford, and Helen & Laura Lind. We all think that there must be a trick to the way the words are used in the song. We agree that you should try to mix up the words a little, maybe even sing the words backwards."
At this suggestion Chris stood up, turned his back to the bag of gold and started singing "Talk To Me".
"No silly", Diane laughed at Chris, "I don’t think they meant to sing backwards, I believe they wanted you to sing the words in reverse order. End the song with the first words and begin the song with the last words. You know how to do it".
With a grin on his face Chris looked lovingly at Diane and answered, "I know, I was just trying to relieve the stress of the moment. Here", he motioned to the seat next to him, "sit and hum the tune while I sing it "In reverse order".
It was no surprise to either Chris or Diane that the bag didn’t stop it’s terrible screeching when they tried to open it. "Guess that’s not the answer either" Chris muttered. "Let’s see what contestant number three has to say", he said as he once again turned to the computer for another email.
The third email was from Kathy Olson. "Dear Chris, I have been in communication with Jeri Neufeld and Alice Saunders, both in America. Our suggestion for solving the bag of gold is that you need to be accompanied by your band. We think that it will take the power of all of your many talented band members and your wonderful voice to break through the magic spell on the bag."
"That’s it", Chris yelled, confident at the thought, "I’ll get the whole band over here. We’ll open this bag and have the treasure before the sun comes up".
"More like your band will string you up by your thumbs for calling them at this hour", Diane commented. "Have you any idea what time it is?"
"But it’s for a good cause", Chris replied, excitement in his voice, "with the gold from the bag the foundation will be able to operate for years to come." His fingers flashed over the telephone buttons as fast as he would play "Don’t Pay The Ferryman". As each band member answered he shouted, "IT’S CHRIS, Get over here. Quick!" and he would hang up and dial again.
The time crawled by slowly as one by one his band members arrived, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They were all greeted with warm handshakes and cups of hot tea with crackers, and a sincere "thank you" from both Chris and Diane. "Set up wherever you can" Chris ordered, we have to make room for everyone and it’s going to be tight."
The last band member arrived just as the sun broke through the clouds to a clear morning. The band was tuned up and ready to play. "This will do it", Chris told himself, "I’m at last going to be able to open that stupid bag of gold". His fatigue was beginning to take hold and his tired face showed the strain of his efforts.
The band play their hearts out, as time after time, Chris sang the words and tried to open the bag. To no avail, each time Chris opened the bag, the screeching started until everyone had to cover their ears. "It’s not working", Chris finally announced, "all this effort and I am still unable to open the bag without the screeching."
He was at a loss of what to do next. "Take a break boys", Chris muttered, the frustration dripping from his voice. "Take a break and we’ll try something else. This isn’t working at all".
Once again Chris turned to his computer. Although there were numerous emails pending his attention, Chris selected the next one on the list.
This email came from Simon Krol and Astrid Nolde-Gallasch. "Dear Chris. I have been discussing your dilemma with Astrid, I know that this may sound crazy to you. But have you tried to sing the song from your heart? I know you have been trying in vain, but it may have been a case where you are trying too hard to open the bag of gold and not singing from your heart. We don’t know very much about leprechauns, but maybe the spell that was passed on the bag of gold can be broken if you sing it like you mean it, not like you want to force the bag open. Does this make sense?
"The thought had escaped me", Chris spoke the words quietly, "and I have been trying to get to the gold with such effort, that I haven’t been singing the song the way I wrote it". Chris looked at the computer screen through new eyes. The answer had been there all along. "Listen up everyone", Chris spoke out loudly. "I have been going at this all wrong. I know that the desire for the gold had become a passion with me. I know that the song was written Talk To Me. I believe that the bag will open when I "talk to it". With this discovery Chris motioned for his band to begin again.
"Talk to me, I need a little advice", he began to sing. "You make me feel alive" the words rang over the sounds of his band. He glanced at the bag filled with treasure and felt it had come to life. It was alive and it was emanating a pleasant and warm feeling.
"I’m not one in a million, I’m a million in one. Thinking of ways to your heart". The feelings of the words and the meanings of the words had been overlooked, now the feelings filled the room. "It’s not one in a million", Chris understood, "It’s a million in one." He imagined that it was a million hearts in one place. All working together, the million hearts were beating as one.
"Ways to your heart", Chris thought, "I haven’t been thinking from my heart, I wanted the gold, maybe for an honorable cause, but I wanted the gold all the same, not the results of what could be accomplished with the gold.
"Look at me ‘cos I’ve been looking at you" he continued to sing, more loudly than ever.
His band was picking up his mood and the music rang throughout the house. He had been looking at the bag and felt that the bag was looking back at him. "’cos I’ve been looking at you". The words echoed in his mind. The bag was talking to him, "Go with the feeling that is breaking inside... When you talk to me...".
Chris stopped singing in mid sentence. As the band continued to play, he set his guitar on the floor and slowly walked to the bag of gold. "All you have wanted" he began, speaking to the bag, "was for me to talk to you, isn’t it?", he asked. A warm glow emanated from the bag. A soft pulsation made the bag gradually open and close in rhythm with the music. "You aren’t a bag, "Chris asked at last, "are you?"
The treasure bag glowed warmer and warmer, brighter and brighter. " How can I help you" Chris asked, compassion in his voice. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that there was something supernatural going on. "I can talk to you, but you need to answer me so I can help" Chris paused, and waited for a reply.
The bag, now glowing a bright white began to transmit the same song that the band had been playing "Talk To Me", a beautiful set of chimes joined in as the top of the bag opened wide and spued out thousands of golden coins that made musical sounds as they landed on the floor and furniture. A bright multicolored rainbow appeared inside the house as the coins rained onto the floor.
"Your heart is pure", the bag finally answered. "You have discovered the true meaning of the song that you yourself have written. And you have also released from a terrible spell the souls of those before you that have been unable to answer the leprechauns riddles.
The coins continued to rain down among the band and Diane. The rainbow became an intense light, so bright it hurt the eyes to look. Chris reached for the bag and lifted it off the table. It was empty now, light as a feather. Chris reached inside the bag, and for the first time he was not attacked by the screeching noise from the bag. He felt nothing inside the bag and tipped it upside down. From the bottom of the bag a business card fell out onto the table. It was printed in bright green ink on a shinny silver background. "A Million Thanks for freeing those of us who were unable to answer the riddles".
Chris looked around the room; his band had stopped playing and was busy scurrying around collecting the fortune in gold coins. Chris felt a pang of pity for the many many people who had been captured by the leprechaun for an unknown time. He felt happy to have freed those trapped souls. He looked at Diane and sighed in relief as he took her hand and there sat quietly together.
Just then the doorbell rang. Chris reluctantly rose and answered the door. A distinguished gentle man with a briefcase tucked under his arm smiled at Chris from the step and announced, "Good Morning sir, my name is Sir Ford Prefect and I’m from the Inland Revenue Service {IRS}, we have recently received a call from one Mister McAdams saying you have come into a substantial amount of currency and I have been assigned to investigate the report and to assess your tax liabilities.
The End
