I hate this day.
Okay, maybe hate is the wrong word. Let me try again.
I loath this day so much that I wish that the gods would spew down the vilest wrath they have. I despise this day so much that I want, with all of my little heart, to see anyone that dances, or celebrates, or tries to greet me with good cheer, to be boiled in a vat of that nasty green swill.
Ooh, that would make my soul sing if that actually happened.
To be rid of those impersonators. To see all those gimmicks and laughable attempts at humor destroyed.
What makes it worse is that I get dragged into it, every year. I have no interest in it. I have no real connection to it. But everyone insists that I must be at the center of it, or I must be the mascot for the holiday.
NO! I have had enough. I will not take part of any parties, get togethers, or hangouts at the pub. I am done with this day!
A pox on you Patrick. On you and your silly saintly holiday, and all those that participate in it.
Red the Leprechaun