“Dadgumit all! I come all this way to the end of the rainbow and there ain’t no pot of gold! Just manure!”

“Are ya sure that manure inna worth more than gold, Granddad?”

“Who… Who said that?”

“Eh? It’s just little ole me. Yer friendly leprechaun who lives at the end of the rainbow.”

“L… L…”

“Yes. Leprechaun. Can ya not speak Granddad?”

“I can speak fine. But I can’t see ya.”

“Well, if ya could see me, you might wanna catch me.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” The man looks around for the speaker, even as he speaks. “So whadda ya mean that manure might be better than gold?”

The disembodied speaker sighs. “You’re a farmer, right?”

“Right.”

“And what do farmers do with manure?”

“We use it fer fertilizer.”

“Right.”

“So…”

“So bag it up and sell it. Ya’ve got more than ya can use anyway. Ya can even let it set fer a while so it doesn’t stink quite so much. Or better yet, don’t wait and sell it as farm fresh fertilizer.”

“Yeah. That’s the ticket. Thanks leprechaun. Wherever you are.”

“Ya’re welcome, Granddad.” The leprechaun winks, but nobody can see it.

And that is why people pay money to buy manure. What is at the end of your rainbow?