Ramon cocked his head at the little ginger man who was, frankly, looking more and more annoyed as the seconds passed.
“Dammit. Just throw the card into the fooking hat.” Gilligan said, his voice tremoring towards shouting.
“Keep cool, man. This is Miss Nancy’s family”
“Sir.” Ramon said tensely, “I’ve been trying.”
“I dinna say try, I said do it! Just do it!” The Leprechaun tugged on his bright orange curls in frustration.
Ramon tossed another card, which spun lazily towards the top had that sat on the grass about three yards away.
“No! Like this!” he snatched the stack of cards from Ramon, held them up and stared him in the eye, and with deliberate slowness, drew a card, and flung it backwards over his shoulder.
The card spun and sailed in a delicate arc, landing in the top hat.
Drawing again and again, he repeated the process six more times, each time the card landed in the hat. He then shoved the remaining cards back at his student, who took them begrudgingly.
“Man, I just don’t have the skill…”
Gilligan sighed, “Son, if this were about skill, I’d cry along with you and go have a drink. But this ain’t that. This is about luck, so stop your sad-sacking you mopey moor.”
“Man, how many times, I gotta tell you, I’m Mexican!”
“No! You’re a seventh of seven! You’re that above all else. Never forget it. You’re drippin’ with luck, why the hell can’t you use it?
Ramon laughed. “Man, if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”