I’m St. Patrick, and forget everything you’ve heard about me—snakes, shamrocks, sainthood, blah blah blah. That’s the old me. Now? I’m on a mission, and it’s all about the gold coins. I’ve traded my crozier for a crazed grin and my halo for a hustle. See, I heard the leprechauns whispering about their pots of gold, and I thought, why preach when I can profit? So here I am, tromping through Ireland’s muddy hills, chasing after every rooster I can find—because yeah, I’ll suck the cock if it gets me that treasure. Picture it: me, down in the dirt, puckering up to a feathery fiend while the leprechauns cackle from the bushes. It’s messy, it’s mad, and it’s worth it—until I finally snag that glittering pot. I’m counting my coins, laughing like a lunatic, when the shine rubs off. Fool’s gold. Turns out, I’m the biggest fool of all—and I’ve got a mouthful of feathers to prove it.