Now Hal knows that Sito is really on board.
“Now what I would really like to show you first is the Weather Machine that we have here in Portland, but the truth is, sir, it’s just not terribly exciting until around noon.” Feeling that Saito is on board with the tour, Hal checks in less to see if his fare is following him to the letter. The fact that Saito had hopped in the truck made Hal feel like they had a good spiritual connection, and Hal was confident that—uh—he really needed to figure out the guy’s name—but confident that his patron got the gist. “Regardless, I have a wonderful place to begin our tour. It is one of the only government sanctioned Leprechaun parks anywhere in the world. I suppose there are likely to be a few over yonder in Ireland, sure, but this park is the most westward located if you get my meaning. You, of course, are from further Westward, but so much, I suppose that it just becomes East again.”
“But then who would be shocked that the little people never got over the Pacific? I feel terrible thinking about their journey across the Atlantic as it was—them being so small and having to stowaway among who knows what kind of garbage. And then, and then they make their way across this whole country Oregon-Trail-style?” This gave Hal pause. He wasn’t just there to gab, it was only fair that his companion learn a thing or two, so he turned to Saito and said very slowly, “Or-a-gone,” and then he pointed at the floor of the truck? for emphasis. Saito considered the floor of the truck? and then looked up at Hal and said, “O-ru-gonu.” Hal gave him a thumbs up and Saito gave him thumbs in immediate return. And Hal felt good.
“It’s a helluva thing to think about not just having to hide from injuns but then to also have to worry about foxes and hawks and such. I shudder to think. It’s a wonder that they made it here at all. But such is the fortitude of the Leprachaun people. They are made of tough stuff, I think. Maybe it’s that they’re Irish, maybe it’s that when you’re so small you acclimate to the need to be made of something sturdy. I’ve never met one, mind you. They keep to themselves—who could blame them? But I sure would like to get my hands on one of those wishes.”
“They say that—um—George Miller?—did that himself after coming back from World War II. He grabbed himself a leprechaun and wished for them to have a park. You know World War II? We fought then you know.”
“Well, I think it’s quite all right when a man gains a wish and all he does is wish for something for someone else. I think that’s just about the nicest thing one man could do for another.”
Read the whole thread: Saito and the Incorrigible Haru's Ridiculous Tour