It Happens At Night 5: Pool and Pearls...

Freddy felt it was time to try and make it up with Bolly
  He made it his personal mission for that day to win back the woman he loved.

  But he had to sort his back out first...  That toilet floor was really hard sleeping on and he didn't even have a bedroll!

  A nice gentle walk in the park would help fix him up.

  Unfortunately for Freddy that gentle walk turned into a crazy chase when he fell prey to a couple of members of the Irish Gang.  Those fellows came striding out from behind one of the back alleys in a dodgy corner of town, a whole group of them, strutting down the streets in their suits and bowler hats and with their beating sticks in hand!

  The situation was this:  

  McGregor had gotten himself mad drink the night previous and let slip that Freddy had been doing dealings with Corta, though he never explained what those dealings actually were but the Irish got wind of this news and naturally presumed that Freddy was tied up with the Brazilians in someway, and as these two gangs were presently locked in a fearsome war for control over the streets they saw Freddy as an enemy and were compelled to do their duty and give chase to the man.

  They meant to kill him.

  But Freddy, despite his poor bent back, manage to swerve the gang hiding in a dirty bin.

  Freddy let loose a well deserved sigh of relief after that swift escape.

  Freddy waited a good amount of time, nearly an hour, and when he finally felt that his enemies were out of deaths reach he climbed out of the bin and retook the mantle of his forsaken quest to win back the heart of his beloved Bolly.

  Now what were two things in life women absolutely adore?
  Diamonds and flowers.

  So Freddy knew what he had to do...

  Freddy paid the local florist a visit.

  Freddy walked right up to the owner and explained his situation:

  'Listen up mate!  My marriage is breaking down faster than Berlin in the last weeks of WW2.  My wife has thrown me out onto the cold streets.  I have been forced to sleep in a toilet for the night!  Now listen.  I need to cheer her up real bad and win her back into my life.  I need flowers.  Your best flowers.  You are a florist?  I need flowers and I need them now!'

  'Sorry mate,' the owner replied casually.  'We don't have any flowers in stock right now.  We are waiting for a new shipment that won't be here until tomorrow afternoon. But what we do have however are plenty of wasps.  Here.  Take a look.  There are a few of them down there by the window.  Take your pick.  Most of them are dead, but there is one that it still alive over there in the corner.  I can give you those dead ones down there on the window sill for a good price.  What do you say?  Want to make me an offer?'

  Freddy couldn't believe it.  The only florist in town and it didn't stock any flowers?  Beautiful perfect Fenwock logic right there in action.

  Now the poor man was truly vexed beyond belief.

  His plans were melting like snow in the sun...

  'Wait a second?  I am trying to be romantic here,' Freddy explained to the wistful owner.  'Wasps don't spell romance to me.  They spell DISASTER, especially during a picnic.  Nobody wants wasps around.'

  'That is a bit of mythology speaking right there.  Old wives tales as it were,' the owner replied in a sneaky and very confident way.  'Now listen up lad.  I am going to do you a favour.  I am going to sell you five wasps for a fiver, that's a pound per wasp.  Tell me that isn't a good offer?'

  Having little choice Freddy dipped his hand into his cold pocket and dragged out his last remaining five pound note.  He slapped the crumpled piece of paper into the other mans sweaty hands, and walked out of the shop with his five dead wasps lying at the bottom of a paper bag.

  This refined and well thought out gift should please Bolly, Freddy was thinking as he made his way back home.

  Confident that things were going to go well, for there were beads of love sown into every single one of those dead wasps, Freddy stepped to the front door with a skip in his stride.

  No need to sneak in through the back this time.  I know that this is going to work!

  He used his knuckles to make contact with the door until it finally opened.

  'What do you want?' said Bolly.

  'Bolly, my dearest, I have bought you this very fine and charming gift.  For you my sweet.'  He brought up the paper bag.  'Here you are.  Five crushed and dead wasps.  I bought these for you, Bolly, because the florist told me that women love that kind of thing, and that florist seemed like a pleasant person who wanted to help me out so I went along with what he said.'

  Bolly slapped Freddy around the face and promised to report him to the police for harassment if he ever dared to return home again.

  The poor dead wasps in Freddy's hand blew away with the wind.  It was like a sad scene out of a really badly conceived low budget movie filmed straight to VHS back in the 80s, the kind of movie the producer, who was most likely depressed and not quite right in the head, would sneak on the shelves of a Blocbusters in order to trick customers into thinking the movie was legitimate and not just a piece of feckless trash.

  After that Freddy went back home, that is back to his second home which was a broken toilet cubicle down in a basement.

  On his way back to his second home Freddy met up with old boy McGregor.  The Scotchman was standing in the bar rubbing his hands together and looking very pleased about something.  That pesky old man always had some business going on!  The old war vet didn't know how to rest and he didn't know how to die either...

  'I've got some good news,' he said as soon as Freddy was within earshot.  'As of today my business is going to be expanding.'

  'What's happening then?'

  'The Kings are back in town and they are looking to invest in a local business.  They turned to me first!  I feel honoured.  With all the trouble that is going on these days with the street gangs it feels really good to have the Kings backing me up!  They promised to protect my humble abode from the gangs if I sell their product for them!'

  'O right.  Nice!  But that sounds more like a racket job than a financial investment...?'

  'You think that way because you don't know business, Freddy.  Men like you always see the negative when a good opportunity flies their way.  Now come over here boy and you will learn something good.'

  There was a pint sitting on the bar.  It was full to the brim with a very fine, very calm looking golden liquid.

  'Do you see that pint sitting over there on the bar?  Do you know what is in that glass, Freddy?  No?  Well settle down because old McGregor here is going to enlighten you.  Prick your ears Freddy and soak this in:  that there, my boy, is a pint of refined G-Juice,' said McGregor delightedly.

  'No way?'  Freddy was genuinely surprised and you could hear it in his vice.

  'The real deal and no less,' McGregor continued.  'I have a hundred barrels of the stuff signed over in my name.  Delivered to me this morning from the Kings Brewery!  They want me to sell it to the public, and if I do my job well enough, which we all know I will, I get a few soldiers on my doors and a share in the returns.'
  'That is such an awesome deal!  Damn it!  Some folks around here get all the luck.'

  'The Kings know me from old.  Their grandfather and my grandfather go way back.  They were in the war together, fighting in the resistance against the Nazi occupation.  The story goes that my grandfather gave up his life to protect the Kings.  Ever since then the Kings have always made sure to do my family a good turn whenever there was the possibility to do so.  And here we are, the Kings and the McGregors back in business!  I am going to be making a lot of money soon, Freddy.'

  There was nothing better for healing the soul than listening to old man McGregor rub your face in his good fortune.

  'Like I said you are a lucky man, McGregor and I am happy for you.'

  McGregor drunk the whole pint of G-Juice down without offering Freddy a single drop!

  'What's wrong with you today, Freddy?  Still homeless?' said McGregor after he had finished drinking the good stuff.

  'Aye.'

  'What's with the bruise on your right cheek?  Been on a fight with a couple of tough lads?'

  'No.  I tried to make it up with Bolly and she just punched me in the face.  I even bought here a couple of wasps from the local florist,' Freddy replied weakly.

  'Well nice try lad!  Better luck next time.  Now they say diamonds win over a ladies heart but I recommend pearls...  Find your woman a pearl neckless and she will be locking the doors so you can never leave home again!'

  'But all I can afford are wasps?'

  'Then you need to get to work!  Come on Freddy you are an accountant for goodness sake.  There must be something out there for you to do?  I tell you what, Freddy, seeing as I like you so much, I will put in a good word for you with the Kings.  They might need somebody of your skill to check over their books...  They might need help running that big old brewery of theirs!'

  'Thanks for the offer but its okay.  My list of clients is already very full.'

  'If you say so, Freddy.'

  Just then a man entered the bar and once he was in the atmosphere of the whole room changed with one stroke.

  A grey headed and portly gentleman came waddling right up into view.  He was wearing a suit and his left hand he was carrying a pool cue.  Now this man had this kind of strange high falutin manner about him, very pompous, very swaggering, and he talked to you with this kind of aggressive confidence like you were already supposed to know who he was.  The stranger flung out a ringed finger ready for Freddy to kiss.  Freddy was happy to refuse to do this especially to somebody he knew nothing about until McGregor pulled the young man aside and quickly and quietly explained in his left ear that this stranger was no stranger.  This man was in fact L.A Thins, master pool player and all round American super star.

  'He's also got ties with the New York Mafia,' McGregor added.  'So bend that stubborn knee of yours Freddy and kiss that darn old ring of his unless you want to see my place being shut down, or worse burned to the ground,' McGregor pressed with great haste and with steady earnest.  'Upset this man and I will be out of a job and you will be out of a toilet.'

  McGregor pulled Freddy back to the scene and Freddy did what he had to do.

  L.A Thins looked very pleased.  He slapped Freddy gently on the cheek like Freddy was kind of a dog.

  'It's good to see the youth of today still show some respect,' said the master pool player.  'As you two men both know already I need no introduction, but I will introduce myself nevertheless because it gives me something to talk about.  My name is L.A Thins.  I am a pool hustler of a special kind.  I have won bets worth a million in New York, L.A and beyond.'

  'It's good to have you back in my place, Mr Thins,' said McGregor doing his duty by taking his turn to kiss the ring.  'I have not seen you in a very long time, Mr Thins!  Where have you been?  Boy it must be like five years since you were last seen in this town?'

  'I like Fenwick.  It's the kind of place where a man like myself can rest.  But you know me from old, McGregor, pool is not only my game it is my life and I am always on the hustle.  The only place where there's good pool money to be made is in New York, so I have to go back there every couple of months whenever I need paper to buy another boat, or a building block.  The pool sharks of New York are ready to bet six figures sometimes more, and old L.A Thins is always ready to separate a man from his numbers.  That is how I made a name for myself.'

  'Bless you Mr Thins!  You were always one cracker of a hustler!'

  L.A Thins returned with a shrug, 'It's just pool,' he said, calmly.  'The game is in my blood.  I am looking around your place, McGregor and it still seems you don't have a pool table at hand?'

  'I could probably pick up a cheap one from Argos right now if you like...?'

  'I only play with the best,' Thins returned casually.  

  Freddy found Mr L.A Thins uncomfortable to be around.  He had this strange, demanding manner about him.  And if he really was connected to the Mafia then that made the man appear even scarier and it made Freddy feel like he needed to hide in the toilet or find a suitable means to keep well out of the reach of his eyes.

  I really hope this lunatic doesn't try to make conversation with me!

  Too late!

  L.A Thins beady brown eyes fell on Freddy.  The master pool player had a question or two for the young man:

  'Where are you from Freddy?'

  Freddy told Mr Thins that he was from Brighton.

  'I know that street it's in Chicago somewhere.  Nice.  Do you have any Italian blood in your veins?  You must do you being a Chicago man and all?'

  'I don't think so, Mr Thins,' Freddy replied nervously.  'I will go to the doctors and look into one day...'

  'See that you do.  If you are of Italian stock you have got my immediate respect.  I can help you out with business.  Just keep me informed.'

  'Of course Mr Thins.  I will do that.'

  Thins started slapping Freddy on the cheek again.

  Then Mr Thins fired his next dreaded question in the direction of the young man:

  'Freddy boy!  Do you play pool?'

  'I don't Mr Thins.  I am very bad at the game.  I keep on knocking the ball off the table and ripping off the felt with the cue.  I am an embarrassment at pool.'

  'We have all got to start somewhere my boy.  My saying is this:   TRAIN TRAIN TRAIN.  It's the only trick that works.  You train at pool and one day you will be as good as old Thins!  Now McGregor,' and it was with great relief to Freddy that the Mr Thins turned his attention back to the Scotchman.  'You need to get a pool table in your place.'

  'I will do Mr Thins.  I will invest in a good one.'

  'That is what I like to hear.  And then I can start training up Freddy here.'

  And to Freddy's utter horror the legendary pool player turned his attention back to him.  'I am going to train you up to be a legend in the game Freddy.  A legend like your new buddy Thins!'

  'Thank you Mr Thins I appreciate that!'

  'Don't think nothing about it.  I am willing to help any Chicago man to learn the game.  And to learn it well.'

  McGregor asked L.A Thins whether he had a game coming up anytime soon.

  'NO,' he replied while chewing on a toothpick.  'The real reason I am in Fenwick is because I wanted to meet my mother.'

  'That sounds really nice,' said Freddy, trying to impressive the pool player.  'Where does she live?'

  'Six feet under.  How did you not know?  She's been dead for ten years?'

  'O!  I am sorry...'

  'Freddy!  When I train you up you had better be a good pool player because if I beat you in a match I might have to do something unpleasant to you after insulting the memory of my mother like that!  Ha!' he started patting Freddy on the head again as though the man was some kind of humble dog.  'Just kidding kid.  I am always around paying respect to my mother.  I will never forget the day we buried her.  She had an open coffin, that is just the way of our family, she looked great, just like she did in life, and she was wearing a beautiful pearl neckless...'

  On hearing this Freddy's eyes boggled like two giant fully inflated balloons!

  A pearl neckless?

  A PEARL NECKLESS!

  The perfect gift for Bolly!

  Now all Freddy had to do was utilise his cunning and sneak the name of the dead lady out of her sons wobbling lips...

  'She sounds like a fine woman this mother of yours.  I would like to pay her my respects herself one day, her being the mother of the finest pool player in town!'

  'Moo Thins.  That's my mother.  What can I say?  She was named after an old heifer.  My father met her during the war...'

  'Moo Thins!  That's great.  I will remember that.'

  

As soon as Freddy could get away he was off to Uncle Lucien's house.

  The decrepit old man lived in a building that looked like an empty old garage.  There were no chairs in the place because Lucien couldn't bend his legs to sit down.  So instead the old man just stood in the corner of the room, like a lampshade or a wooden cabinet.

  When he let Freddy in there was a fire blazing in the hearthstone.  It was midsummer and no need for the heat, but Lucien liked keeping the thing burning because his home didn't have electricity anymore.  Lucien was prodding the blazing thing with a long and ridged poker when Freddy turned up.

  'By the glint in your eye you have got a job brewing?' said the cobweb clad old man.

  'A lady by the name of Moo Thins was buried with a pearl neckless,' said Freddy, excitedly.  'I need you to help me dig the body up so we can find it and grab it.  I am going to give it to Bolly as a present.  I think it might be the thing to save our marriage, and in turn secure my image on social media for good.'

  Uncle Lucien heard this and returned with a grim smile.  He started tapping the tips of his long fingers together.  Nothing delighted the half-dead man more than a good grave dig!  'Very well,' he said.  'I better go and fetch the shovel!'

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)

Previous part here

There is a prequel to this story.  Check the link below if you would like to read it:

Jim's Subway part 1

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THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

let me guess, POny and Trap

  

That's it sir.  Disitlled from my wives...

I don't want to know!  Just keep it to yourself and pour me a drink will you!

don't have me!  I already have a bold patch and I don't want it to grow any bigger!  

--------------

wasps

Peter Pan story - Mcgregror - you could away with that sort of thing in the 90s

Talk to McGregor about meeting Bolly, McGregor talks about his stories, Freddy wrongly arrested Meets DC Fiddler.  Talk about Irish and their beating sticks 

social media 

  

It Happens at Night 4: Out on the Streets...

Freddy made sure to keep away from all park benches for the rest of that night.

  Instead he made the willing decision to sleep in a gutter in a street corner.

  He slept in the gutter for his own protection, and to maintain his personal safety, as well as his dignity.

  He just couldn't risk being ruffed up by another gang...

  When a Fenwick man has the security of a home he might forget that the streets are owned by the gangs.  And when a human being ever dares to leave their home behind and place one shoe-sole on a single cobble they are intruding on controlled land and risking their very precious lives.   

  It was a dangerous business going out onto the streets - and in turn an even deadlier business trying to sleep on them!

  Freddy had let his guard down that night.

  Never again.

  But by luck he had found a nice little corner in a road to snuggle down in.  

  When the morning finally started to pipe up Freddy found himself being rescued by his good old friend Marty McGregor who brushed Freddy down and invited him to stay in the local hostelry that he managed.

  'Can I fetch you a whiskey sonny?'

  'Yes please,' said Freddy.  'Irish will do nicely...'

  'Sorry mate.  The only whiskey we sell here is cockney.  Here, have a good hard glass of this fine old blend of Pony and Trap.  Wait!  You do realise you are paying for that?  You got no money you say?  Darn!  Alright.  I will do you a deal.  I will offer you a double shot of Pony and Trap so long as you are happy with me shaving the top off with my own lips.'

  Freddy agreed to the deal.

  Anything for some whiskey.

  So McGregor poured the man a glass of Pony and Trap, and drank away half of it before throwing the rest of it in the direction of his friend.

  'You are too kind!' said Freddy, sipping down the spoonful of whiskey left at the bottom of the cup.  'This is a good whiskey!  Thank you!'

  'I made it myself!'

  'Fancy that!  What ingredients did you use?'

  'It's no secret that I distilled the beverage using the sweat from my second hand unwashed socks.'

  'O.'

  'Ah!  You can't beat a good old glass of the Pony when you are feeling depressed.  They used to brew this stuff back during the war.  It is a secret recipe handed down to me by my beloved grandfather.'

  'O right.  Which war was that then?'

  'The only one that counts!  WW2.  Fenwick was the second channel island to be conquered by the Third Reich.  When the Nazis moved into town they quickly attained a taste for the Pony.  My grandfather was part of the resistance movement back then and he fought to the death protecting his brand from those vile  thieving fascists!  He was not going to let them steal his socks!  "Pony and Trap belongs to the McGregors," he would say.'

  'he sounds like a hero!  What happened to him?'

  'He was captured and deported to Belsen.'

  'Damn!'

  'But thankfully the recipe survived the war and that is why we are lucky enough to be sat here drinking it today!'

  Freddy smiled.  He felt his spirits lift a little.  McGregor was a hearty man and made for good company in dark times.

  'Let's make a toast!' said Freddy cheering up.  'Let's toast your war hero grandfather kicking the Nazis up the backside while simultaneously saving his socks!"

  'I will drink to that!  Fancy sharing another whiskey with me?'

  Freddy said he was ready to do that.

  McGregor left Freddy half a drop of the good stuff at the bottom of a dry glass.

  'So what's up with you today then Freddy?  I hear you have been having a hard time of it lately?  Speak freely.  Good old McGregor is here and his ears are ready to receive you!'

  'My wife threw me out of our apartment...'

  'O!  So is that why I found you sleeping a bit rough?'

  'Yes.  I was attacked by one of the gangs as well when I tried sleeping on a park bench...  They shaved all of my hair off!'

  'Brutal stuff.'

  'I was so scared.'

  'I am sad to hear about your troubles, Freddy.  I always thought you and Bolly were well suited!  You looked like the perfect couple when you arrived in town!  I guess you just never know what is going on behind closed doors!'

  'Trust me, McGregor, you don't want to ever know what goes on behind our doors when they are closed!  My gosh!  That Bolly!  She is a harsh woman!  Fierce.  Real nasty piece of work.  I don't know what happened between us!  It was never always like this to start with it really wasn't.  We met in Thailand back during my backpacking days...'

  'You went backpacking?'

  Yes.  Well...  No not really.  I used to live in Brighton back in the UK and I had a lot of credit card debts...  And I owed a couple of loansharks...'

  'If you are so extremely bad with money how did you ever get to be an accountant?'

  Freddy had to put his foot down quick and stop the man there in his tracks.

  'Hey!  Stop that McGregor!  I am talking about my love life, not my career.'

  'O sorry.  Continue Freddy with your fine story.  I'm listening.'

  'Yes well I met Bolly in Thailand...'

  'While you were on the run?'

  'YES!  While I was on the run.  We met in the beautiful Thai city of Tittybong.  Marvellous place.  I will never gorget the day when our eyes met across the bar.  I smiled.  She threw her drink at me.  That is the Thai way of saying hello.  We immediately decided that we were made for one another after that.  So why not get married?  She was recently divorced and was on the look for a new man and there I was, all ready to go.  It didn't bother me that she had her little boy Billy.  I am not too proud to raise another mans child.  Not at all.  I am happy to share the burden, especially when love is involved.  I will never forget the wedding day!  The father had to be restrained, he was so happy.  He brought a baseball bat with him, for some reason?  I think it was meant to be a gift!  Such a lovely man.  I studied Thai at university for three years that is why I am so up-together with their language!  I thought to myself if I am going to visit Thailand and marry one of its delightful natives I might as well grow accustomed to the lingo, and I think it is the real reason why Bolly found me so attractive.  I took the time to learn the language of her people!'

  'Fair play to you for learning the language!' spoke up McGregor.  The old man was impressed.  'It's hard learning a new language!  I tried learning cockney once, and well and I ended up with a bunch of apples and pears...'

  Freddy continued with his tale of love and passion in far off Thailand:

  'The wedding was the best day of our loves.  I will never forget it!  It will forever be etched in my memory, like one of those cave paintings in France!'

  'What?  Isn't there one where a sabre-tooth cat rips off the head of forager?'

  'No.  I mean the beauty of the memory of our wedding will last forever like those caves.  Anyway!  The wedding proceeded beautifully.  Just like one of those old Disney movies, it was perfect.  I didn't believe that true romance actually existed until that day came to find me.  I never forget what Bolly said to me when the ceremony was over.  She whispered, seductively in my ear, she said:

  "Fook you, English Scoom Bog!  I kull yo woth me knoof When We got hoom, You Vile fooking scoom."

  'Yes.  That's what she said!  Her precious words are Thai for: "I love you so much you beautiful Englishman.  I can't wait to take you home, my love."'

  'She sounds like a lovely woman indeed,' said McGregor.  'I would like to say I am really happy for you - but then at some point during in all this wonderful romance she threw you out onto the street?'

  'I don't know where it all went wrong I really don't.  I think it all started when I brought her back to the UK.  I tried starting out at Brighton again but I still had those debt collectors chasing after me.  I tell you those guys are persistent devils!  So eventually we had to make our way over to Fenwick.'

  'Ah!  So you are living here in exile!  It makes sense now.  No one would live in Fenwick willingly.  Brilliant stuff.  Okay.  Carry on with your story, Freddy.'

  'Yes well, Bolly and I decided that we loved Fenwick so much, it being ever such a delightful island town, flowing with a rich history that we decided to put down roots...'

  'What did you say?  Rich history?  Did you say RICH?  I don't understand?  Are you referring to those dungeons that the Nazi built during the occupation?  They are a museum now.'

  'NO!  The other bits of history that happened before that!'

  'Like what?'

  'Didn't king Arthur bury excalibur here in secret?'

  'You heard that from a drunk!  Don't worry about it.  There are plenty of that sort around here.  The local drunks will tell you anything!  One drunk who was in here once told me that Fenwick used to have a horse for a king.'

  'What about that time when Henry the Eighth visited the place?'

  'Not true!  Henry the Eighth once wrote a letter to parliament which famously read:  I want to do a Henry the Eighth on the whole town of Fenwick.'

  'Wasn't Fenwick the first slice of the UK to succumb to William the Conqueror before the great battle?'

  'William the Conqueror stopped here in Fenwick to take a leak.'

  'Okay.  What about Charles II?  I heard that while he was on the run from the perfidious roundheads he stayed in Fenwick and the locals took care of him.  He is rumoured to have completely loved the place!'

  'NO.  You must have miss-heard!  King Charles II completely loathed the place.  He hated Fenwick so much that he wanted it wiped off of the face of the earth.  That is why you will never find Fenwick on any map.'

  'Fine!  You win.  Fenwick is the USA of Europe.  It has no history!'

  The two men clashed cups on that one.

  Freddy continued:

  'But I find this town to be an awfully nice place.  Very friend - apart from the gangs and the wars.  And  well Bolly and I thought, YES!  This cheery little place is where we are going to settle down.  Ah!  Wonderful!  I am going to get a good job, get some money together and live in peace raising another mans child.  You know something?  I would love to open a trust fund for dear little Billy...  I know he is not mine by blood, but I still look at him as my own!  What a dear little fellow he is.  I just wish he would stop kicking me in the shins - those bloody bruises down there hurt I sometimes have to limp!  But anyway  returning to the matter at hand, yes, a trust fund for Billy!  I must find a way of setting one up for the young lad.'

  'I tried doing a similar sought of thing once for my son,' McGregor replied cautiously.  'Ah!  Ignorance and naivety, you just can't beat em when they are mixed together!' he said with a sigh.  'I remember when my boy Fenrir was born I thought to myself, "I am going to save a hundred pounds a month and when he gets to eighteen I am going to give him all the money I have saved so that he can have a good start in life!"  Little did I know at the time what a ruddy horrible git he'd grow up to be... playing on that ruddy computer thingy all day and night!  Lazy sod.  I should be retired at my age but I have to keep working so he can keep playing that blasted game...  The Italian Brothers the Hedgehog, or something like that.  Childish twit!  He's a twat as well.  Brainless!  Why when I was his age I had already built this business up!  But my boy Fenrir?  Good Lord!  At eighteen he doesn't even know how to put his shoes on!  He can't even pull his socks up!  His got arthritis from fiddling around with that computer thingy all day - think about that Freddy!  He has arthritis at eighteen years old and he hasn't even done anything!  I can't believe his Grandfather used to fight the Nazis during WW2.  Whatever happened to the world?'

  'Aye.  It's a mad bad old thing when life goes sour,' Freddy replied looking down sadly into his empty whiskey glass.  (If only this glass could refill like magic!  O world please give me a break...  O hope dear old McGregor pours me a free glass of the good stuff...  Distilled from dirty socks or not, I need a good stiff drink to get me through the day).

  As if reading his thoughts McGregor pipped up and said, 'Fancy sharing another drink of whiskey with me, Freddy?'

  'O please!  I need a drink so bad!  I might go mad without one!'

  'Hold on mate.  I'll sort you out!'

  Freddy was expecting McGregor to pour him a straight glass this time.

  But that wasn't what happened.

  What happened was this:

  McGregor took Freddy's poor empty cup and poured a drink into it.  Good so far.  A second later McGregor tipped the entire contents of the cup into his own mouth, swilled it around for a bit, and when he had finished gargling spat out what was left into the glass before returning it to Freddy's hand again.  McGregor literally served Freddy a cup of pure unadulterated backwash.

  Good old McGregor let's cheer his name!  A decent sort and a fine man!  Generous and kind to the last!

  'Fair play, McGregor, you know how to look after me,' said Freddy.

  'Please don't thank me!  I am just doing you a service!  It's what mates like me do for mates like you.'

  'Yes.  You are right.  I am lucky to have you as a mate.'

  Freddy didn't feel like having a drink anymore and gently slid the glass to the other side of the bar.

  Freddy had to start thinking about what he was going to do next.  

  He couldn't spend another night sleeping out in the gutter.  He had to figure out a plan.  He had to get himself together somehow.  He had to win his love Bolly back!

  Freddy asked his friend across the bar for advice.

  'Is it safe to say that you have lived and seen a lot of things and dealt with a lot of situations in your time, right McGregor?  I bet you have been through hard times.  What do you think I should do about my really messed up life?'

  'Well from where I am standing your situation is not all that bad!'

  'And how did you work that one out?'

  'No matter what happens you've still got your job!  You are an accountant, right?  You must be earning plenty of paper!  More than me I bet!  Rent a room somewhere!  You'll be alright, rich man that you are!' and he gave Freddy a sly wink.

  'That's the problem, McGregor.  I am not rich...'

  'Business been bad then?'

  'Very bad.'

  'I thought as much.  I mean it makes sense...'

  'What do you mean by that?'

  'Well, it's that suit you are wearing right now.  It's awful.  It's covered in mud...  And I am sorry mate but ruddy hell you don't half smell bad as well.'

  'A sad consequence of sleeping the whole night in a gutter,' Freddy returned miserably.

  'You really got no money at all then?  Well isn't that bad!'

  'It's Bolly.  She took everything from me!  She stole my heart, my soul, and my suits.'

  'Maybe.  But I still think she is a lovely woman and that you were right to marry her.'

  'So do I.'

  'I like you, Freddy, but no disrespect, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now.  And I mean that literally as well as metaphorically.  If your suit is anything to go by your shoes must stink pretty bad as well.  No thank you, Freddy boy.  You can keep your shoes on your feet thank you!'

  'I just don't understand that woman...' Freddy continued wistfully.

  'Which woman?  Do you mean Bolly?' said McGregor.

  'The one and only,' Freddy replied gloomily.  'When I think back to when we were living in Thailand everything was so good.  Damn it!  It is so sad how things have turned out.  What did I do wrong?'

  'It's not your fault,' said McGregor with a chill in his voice.  'There is a good and reasonable reason why your luck has been so downright awful these last few weeks.  It's because this island town of ours is cursed.  It's cursed to the brim I tell you!  You want to talk about history?  Well listen tot his true story:  This island was once the home to a coven of witches, and a warlock, and a couple of vampires.  There might have been a few werewolves too, I can't remember.  It doesn't matter.  It used to be a very evil place!  Now one day this coven put a spell over the whole island and nothing here has been good ever since.  That is how it has been for hundreds of years now.  No one can be happy in this town.  I mean look at you.  And look at me!  We are both miserable beggars!  And it is because of those darn damn witches back in the day weaving magic with their book of souls.'

  'That sounds like a true story.  Yes.  I think you might be onto something there McGregor.'

  'You bet I am right, sonny.  I know these things.  I am old.'

  McGregor was an interesting fellow to listen to, but Freddy just couldn't get Bolly out of his head and immediately went back to talking about her.  Again.

  'We had a ridiculous argument last week...'

  'Who?  You and Bolly?'

  'Yes.  Of course.  Who else do you think I mean?  Well I will tell you about what happened.  She was ranting at me.  Calling me foul names.  She started doing that as soon as we got home and learned the language.  When we first met she could only speak Thai, you see, the most beautiful language of all.  She used to call be lovely things like, Fooker, and Stopid Boostard.  It was beautiful stuff.  It sends a tear direct to my eye when I think back on those gorgeous early days of our relationship.'

  'Like I said, she is a lovely woman.'

  'But when we got back to the UK she learned English really quickly and my gosh was I to ever know it!   Ruddy heck!  The dirty words she uses on me...  Disgusting!  I don't know where she gets it from.  I...I can't repeat it here and now in front of you, McGregor, forgive me but despite my rugged appearance I still consider myself to be a gentleman and a solid member of the anglo saxon race and I would never use such foul words in a single sentence especially not when I am sober.'

  'Well of course you are an accountant after all.  And a good one at that despite these hard times!  You wouldn't have such a good rep with your customers if you went about swearing all over the place like your wife does.'

  'Indeed!  Well, anyway, going back to Bolly, we had this argument a few days ago and she started comparing me to her ex-husband!  Can you believe it?  She knows I hate it when she starts talking about that man.  I told her one night, "never talk about your ex!"  And ever since I said that she talks about that stupid bastard all the time - oops.  Sorry about the language there, McGregor, over the last few weeks I have been picking up one or two of Bolly's colourful phrases...'

  'Don't think about it.  It's entirely understandable.'

    'Well, anyway.  Going back to Bolly again.  There was this one night when she told me that her ex was twice the man I could ever be!  It hurt me deep when she said that.  She also said he was better than me in bed.  I don't know where she got that notion from because Bolly and I have never once slept in the same bed not even on our wedding day.  She has always insisted that I either sleep on the floor, or in recent times behind the sofa.  What can I say?  I am just a good husband and all round good guy.'

  'Yes.  You sound like a good man Freddy.  The last of the great gentleman of old!  There aren't many of your kind left.  They have all been bred out - that is to say, they never had any babies.'

  'O look at the time!' Freddy exclaimed look at the clock on the wall.  'It's late!  Ha!  Who'd a thought time could go by so quickly, hey?  Thank you for lending me your ear tonight, McGregor.  You are a good friend.'

  'Hey listen, if you are looking for a nice little room to stay the night I might be able to help you out!'

  O yes?

  Freddy was ecstatic!  He was going to have a roof over his head for the night after all!  How wonderful!  

  McGregor led Freddy behind the bar and showed him the way down into a dirty old rundown toilet.

  'You can stay here for as long as you need, Freddy my boy!' said McGregor.  'No need to thank me!  Now listen up!  These are my rules.  Don't turn the lights on!  We need to save on electricity, its the year 2025 after all and we all need to do our bit to save on energy!  I don't want you holding any parties down here, or bringing home young ladies for the night either - I won't have any of that unsavoury kind of business going on in my toilet!  O yes!  And before I forget, most important of all - don't use the toilet!  It's broken.  The flush won't work and I don't want you flooding out my fine business with a massive discharge if water, do you hear me?  Good.  Now if you do need the toilet however I recommend you use the one down by the bus station.  You will need a pound coin to get into it, but money is no object to you hey Freddy being the renown accountant that you are!  So those are my rules!  Break 'em, and I'll get the police on you.  And I am being serious when I say that.  I can get you arrested.  I have friends in the force!  Are you clear about my rules?  Yes?  Marvellous!  O!  And don't you worry about being alone down here there are plenty of spiders and I think there might be a rat as well to enliven your night!  Goodnight Freddy lad!  Sleep well...'

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)

Previous part here

There is a prequel to this story.  Check the link below if you would like to read it:

Jim's Subway part 1

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It Happens at Night 3: Far From Normal...

 Freddy's typical strategy for returning home was to sneak through the back window.
  He had it all setup perfectly.
  He had a table and an old rickety chair put together in the back alley which enabled him clean entrance into the bathroom through the unlocked window.  Sure a thief or a gangster could use it to break into the flat, but there was nothing to steal inside Freddy's little home.

  Not unless the gangster was into dirty old second hand socks...

  Bolly had forced Freddy out of the bedroom, so Freddy, ever the innovator, setup camp behind the living room sofa.

  That was where he sent the nights sleep, on a bedroll, with a good book and his dreams of a better life to keep him company.

  Freddy had been up all night, as we know, at the graves, and was especially eager to be inside his bedroll.

  And he had a backup plan if Bolly caught him sneaking behind the sofa.  

  A bottle of whiskey...

  Because Bolly was a full blown alcoholic.

  This addiction was both a good thing, and a bad thing as far as Freddy was concerned.

  Good because Bolly spent most of the day sleeping the booze off.

  Bad because she was madder than ever when she was drunk, and prone to ridiculous and childish fits of bad temper.

  That night it was lucky for Freddy that he brought his backup plan with him, because Bolly caught him in the act of sneaking in through the bathroom.

  She was sober, and waiting for him - glove and claw at hand...

  'It's 3am,' she said.

  'Is it?  My gosh!  So it is!  My word!  Who'd a thought.'

  'It's 3am!'

  'And I think it is about time for me to snuggle down behind my sofa there...'

  'Look at the clock!' she snapped.  'What time is it?  Read it out loud!'

  '3am...'

  'What time do you call this?'

  'Either really late or extremely early, whatever you prefer,' Freddy replied with a tremble.

  'Don't you try to be clever with me boy!  What have you been doing all night?'

  'Look!  Now listen, Bolly dear.  I can explain...'

  'I am listening.'

  'I had work to do in the office!  You know I am a busy man.  The business requires my full attention.  Especially these days with the economy being the way that it is.'

  'A late night in the office is something like 9 or 10pm, not 3 in the morning.'

  'Maybe...back in the 70s.  But Bolly come on now!  This is the 2025 and things are different today!'

  'You think I am stupid?  You have been up to trouble!  You stink.  You haven't spent the day in an office.  Your covered in mud!  What kind of an accountant gets covered in mud?'

  'I was working at a farm.  One of my clients is a pig farmer...'

  'An accountant who works for a pig farmer?'

  'You cannot be too fussy these days, love.  You need to get the work where you can!'

  'Don't call me love.  What year do you think we are living in, the 1950s?  You think I am going to be your nice little happy house wife for you to lie and trod all over?'

  'To be honest lov... dearest - you have never given me the chance to ever trod on you!'

  The cheek of it!

  Bolly was not going to stand for that kind of talk not in her home!

  She slashed at him with the glove!  Freddy had to dive over the sofa to avoid the shrieking slash!

  It was now Freddy's job to try and calm the woman down.  He had to act quick, before she gave him an injury that saw him on the wrong side of an ambulance unit.

  Initiative kicking in Freddy drew out the whiskey bottle and waved it in front of her:

  'Look!  See!  It's alright, Bolly.  It's whiskey!  The good stuff!  I spared no expense.  Here.  Have a drink!  That's it!  Good!'

  Now Bolly had a drink she was easier to talk to.  

  'Things are not as bad as they look, Bolly,' said Freddy.  'I have had a good day in the office.  The business is really doing well at the moment.  Here.  And I can prove it.  Take a look at what I have got here.'

  He brought out a brown envelope containing five hundred pieces of paper.

  He handed it slowly over to her.  She snatched it away!

  That is how it was every payday.  

  In all honesty in those situations Freddy felt like he was in the Mafia, like he was some kind of a capo paying off a don.

  She took the paper out of the enveloped and sniffed it.

  'This will do, for now,' she replied.  'Now you get in the cupboard!'

  'What?'  Freddy was shocked.  What did she mean by this?

  'I want the living ALL room to myself.  And I don't want you in it.  So get in the cupboard.  Inside there you will be out of my sight!'

  Now here Freddy stepped up:

  'Listen now, Bolly.  This is becoming ridiculous!  You have taken over the bedroom, now the living room is out of bounds as well?  There is nowhere else for me to go!'

  Bolly flashed the glove...

  Freddy stood back down again.

  'If you aren't happy then you can get out!  Go on!  Leave!'

  'Are you seriously going to turf me out onto the streets?  Again?'

  'Yes.'

  'Look!  I have been up all night!  Please be reasonable!'

  'And you can spend the rest of the night out in it as well.  Now go away!'

  And like that Freddy was thrown out onto the streets.  The door was slammed shut and locked behind him.  Bolly was also clever enough to secure the toilet window, so no secret way back in that way not that night.

  Freddy's plans had been foiled again!

  So he gave up.

  Cold and all alone in the dark it was time for him to find a bench to sleep on.

  Freddy didn't mind.  He was used to it.  This was not his first taste of homelessness...

  Bolly had thrown him out only three days prior.

  Time to find my usual bench I guess...

  Rustling around a bin for a few sheets of newspaper, Freddy snuggled down on the old rotten branch fully prepared to sleep out the rest of the morning in the cold harsh and open air.

  But before his eyes were allowed to drop down they were filled with a sudden and brilliant dash of light.

  And from up the road a flashy car swivelled into view.

  Out of the car stepped several brightly dressed men.  They were wearing sunglasses, for some reason, in the middle of the night?  Freddy didn't know why they did that, but he knew full well who these men were.

  They were Brazilians!

  The last man to step out was non other than Don Corta Boa Almoço, leader of the dreaded Fenwick cartel!

  Back in the old days people had a saying, out of the frying pan and into the fire.  Well, that good old saying pretty much summed up Freddy's drab fortune right there and then.

  I will just lie here and pretend to be dead.  I mean what would the powerful and mighty Brazilian cartel want with a washed up and thoroughly homeless tramp?

  Don Corta flashed his phone light on Freddy and ordered the bedraggled and defeated man to stand!

  'You!  Dog!' he called out to him.  'What gang to belong to?  Are you with the Irish?'

  'I am with no gang, sir,' said Freddy feebly and humbly.

  Don Corta heard Freddy out and shook his fists and appeared to be very offended by something.  'Look at you!' Don Corta said angry.  'You stand on your feet and speak openly to me like I was some kind of common cur.  Why are you not on your knees?  On your knees now!'

  Freddy dropped at once to his knees and begged for forgiveness.

  'You talk when I say you can talk, do you hear me, dog?' Don Corta raged on.  'You nod your head.  No words are permitted to leave your lips less I give you permission.  This is my city.  All the G-Juice in this city it flows through me!  Do hear me, dog?'

  Freddy wagged his head like a loyal dog.

  'Speak!  Your name!'

  Freddy gave over his name to the fierce Brazilian warlord.

  Don Corta laughed in Freddy's face.  'What kind of a name is that for a man?  I have a new name for you.  I call you dog.  Why you on the streets Dog?  Speak!'

  'My wife through me out of our apartment!'

  Once again Don Corta laughed at him.  'What kind of a man get's thrown out of his house by the hands of his own woman?  Speak!'

  'Well, sir, it is the year 2025.'

  This reply knocked Don Corta for a few seconds.  Eventually the warlord nodded and had to admit that Freddy did have a really good point right there and decided to accept the answer.

  'You are sleeping on my bench?' the dreaded man rumbled on.  'Why do you sleep on my bench?  Have you no respect?  This is my city.  You can sleep in the gutter, like a rat, but nowhere else.  Do you hear me Dog?  Speak.'

  Freddy said that he heard him.

  'Watch!'  Now Don Corta brought out a knife and he cut his right hand!  'Next time I will cut you, just like that, do you hear me dog?  Speak!'

  Freddy said that he heard him.

  'But you must still be punished!  All men who defy my will must pay the price!  And pay you will!'

  'What are you going to do to me?'

  'Did I give you permission to speak Dog?'

  Freddy bowed his head in shame.  

  There was only one choice left to Freddy now and that was merely to accept his fate.

  Don Corta brought his knife out and upwards again.  'I am going to shave you like the dog you are!'

  And that was when the dreaded cartel leader shaved off all of Freddy's hair leaving the poor man trembling and as bold as badgers underside.

  'The moon shines nicely on your freshly bold head,' said Don Corta disrespectfully.  'Next time I see you sleeping on my bench I will freely shave you again, do you hear me dog?'

  Freddy nodded, but dared not say a single word.

  Don Corta got back into his car and slamming the door too he drove away with his lads leaving Freddy shaved, shaken and scared...   

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)

Previous part here

There is a prequel to this story.  Check the link below if you would like to read it:

Jim's Subway part 1

===========================================================

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My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
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THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

It Happens at Night 2: The Long Walk Home...

 As far as losers go, Freddy ranked quite high on the list, or low, depending on which way you preferred to go.

  Freddy did not do well at school, and as a fully grown adult worked shifts as a toilet cleaner.

  So he was a janitor, and yes, Freddy was highly embarrassed about it.

  So embarrassed in fact that he told everybody, and I mean everybody including his own wife that he worked professionally as an accountant.

  F. Colden Accountancies Services Ltd was the name of his business that did not exist.

  He kept a suit in his car and changed into it before going back home.

  He found the double-life hard work.  He felt like superman, if superman was a massive failure and cleaned toilets for a living.

    Toilet cleaning paid the bills, just about...  but in order to complete the fiction that he was a successful accountant Freddy had to make extra money on the side, by any means possible!  
  And that was where the grave digging business came into play...

  'I have found a juicy one for us to dig up tonight,' said Uncle Lucien.  He rubbed his hands gleefully.  He loved the thought of going out at night with a shovel by his side.  Most people like a night out with their friends - the same with Lucien, except his friends were all dead...

  'What's the deal?'

  Uncle Lucien explained all:

  'A ring.  Such a beautiful thing, worn by an old man three weeks dead.  He wore it on his right ring finger.  My fence told me about it.  It is worth four figures.'

  Four figures in the pocket?  Think about that!

  For the fist time in months Freddy was actually excited about something.  (Excitement was an experience Freddy rarely got to taste, so he had to savour it when it ever at all came along).  

  'It will be three figures each once we have split the difference,' Uncle Lucien explained gloomily.

  'Fine.  Let's do it.  Did you bring the shovel?'

  'Always do, sir.  It follows me everywhere.  Bless that fine shovel of mine!  Tis as loyal as a dog, as they say.'

  'Marvellous.  I need the money more than usual this time.'

  'Might I pray ask why?'

  Freddy didn't really want to go into his private life, but well the two relations had some time to kill so he did.

  'Problems at home,' Freddy started reluctantly.  'You know how it is?  No you don't I guess because you always stick to yourself don't you uncle?  Well let me tell you it's not so easy for me.  Things aren't going well between Bolly and me.  It's tough times.  She started doing these really strange things and only weeks after we were married.  Literally days into the marriage she flipped.  She acts like one of those characters out of those old horror movies, you know the kind I mean?  Dracula and all that.  Wakes up in the middle of the night cold white, shadows for eyes.  Nasty stuff.  She bought this glove the other day with claws on the end of the fingers.  My gosh!  She brandishes the thing any time she says I am standing out of line.'

  'A glove with claws?  Well that is certainly a new on me?' said Uncle Lucien.  'Never heard of that kind of thing before and I have heard about a lot of weird stuff in my time.  Sounds like you have got yourself a really tough maybe even slightly mad wife there, Freddy.  I feel sorry for you.  Sort of...'

  'Indeed,' Freddy went on.  'She told me the full history of the glove.  She told me that certain women  of quality back in Victorian and Edwardian England used to wear a clawed glove to defend themselves from men.  So it was a glove used for self-defence, not intimidation.  So she bought it from an old rickety shop, you know the kind?  The ones where they sail old paintings and grandfather clocks...

  'And clawed gloves apparently!'

  'Yes!  She threatens to cut me with it daily, you know?  I tell you uncle, I am scared to go home.  If she were to ever find out the truth about me...'

  'What?  The truth that you are an unsolicited toilet cleaner?'

  'Don't say that out loud, you fool!  The walls have ears and the hills have eyes, I think that is what Shakespeare said and it is true!  Someone out there could be listening to us right now!'

  'Like who?  Look around!  We are two very boring looking men.  Boring we are literally boring.  Who would take a whiff of interest in anything what we are talking about?'

  'One of her people of course!  She has already made a number of dubious friends since she arrived in town.  And she is becoming very friendly with the Irish of late.  O it is bad business indeed!'

  'I agree.  It sounds bad.  Rather you and than me, Freddy my boy!'

  'The only reason she decided to marry me and leave her home in Thailand was because she thought I was a successful accountant.  Yes.  I know.  I lied to her.  I was stupid.  I made out I was this rich man.  She fell for it, sadly.  Then I pay for her visa bring her back home and show her the one bedroom apartment that I rent and suddenly it's not quite so easy keeping up appearances.  She constantly moans about my lack of cash.  That's why I need this grave digging business to work!  If I run out of money I know she will divorce me and take me to the cleaners!'

  'Or take you to the toilet as is more appropriate in your case!'

  'This isn't funny uncle!  I am in dire straights here!'

  'Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if she divorced you and the truth came out!'

  'How do you mean?'

  'Well at least you would be from a crazy woman and that pesky old glove she likes to wear against you.'

  'You are so stupid!  Lucien!  Do you have any idea what calamity such an event, if it were to happen, would cause for me on social media?  Imagine what my profile would read like to my old school friends - Freddy Colden:  Sad middle aged bolding single loser who cleans toilets for a living!  It would be a disaster for me on a personal level.  I would be the laughing stock of the community.  A complete and true failure in the very literal definition of the word.'

  'There is glory in failure.'

  'O shut up!'

  'It is not a bad thing to admit defeat!  It sets you free from the burden of the lie.'

  'Yes.  I am sure Napoleon would have agreed with you back in the day when he was sent in exile to Saint Helena.'

  'And there is absolutely nothing wrong with being lonely.  I mean look at me for example.  I have always been on my own!  And I am quite happy!'

  'O yes!  Let's look at you, Uncle Lucien.  You look like something out of ruddy Gormenghast!  You creak about like ghost.  How old is that coat you have got on now?  Do you ever change it?  It's covered in cobwebs!  You look like a disgrace.  Aren't you embarrassed about people seeing you looking like that? in public?'

  'No at all, sir.  I never see anybody.  Nobody with eyes...  And I wasn't aware that ghosts creaked, sir.  Unless you have met a different kind of ghost to me.'

  'Uncle!  Stop twisting my words you cursed cad!'

  'I don't twist nothing, sir.  I can't.  Physically.  I just speak the truth.  Now you are not going to like me saying this, but, tough, because I am going to say it:  Now as you know I am no stranger to failure, but you take the biscuit my dear boy there in the failure department!  You forget that I know your family.  Your brother who is a doctor...

  'We don't talk about him...'

  'And the sister who is a lawyer...'

  'We don't talk about her either...'

  'And yet here you are, the literal black sheep of the family, the well-to-do accountant who always has empty pockets!  Ha!  If only the world really knew!  It's a sad life at least for certain people I suppose.  Especially for those forced to live a lie.'

  'I will have you know that I am a happily married man!'

  'To a mail ordered bride who expects payment up front!  There is another word for such a service...'

  'I hate you!  I am married to a beautiful woman I met in Thailand!  We fell in love!'

  'Yes.  And then you met the glove...'

  'You are a fiend!'

  'At least I don't deny it.'

  'You really know how to cheer someone up don't you, you creeper!' said Freddy sarcastically.  

  'I don't try to cheer anybody up.  It is not my way,' Uncle Lucien replied, honestly.

  'Don't try to be clever.  Alright!  Let's stop arguing.  It's getting late.  We need to get to business.'

  Whatever was going to happen in the future, Freddy felt safe that he as going to be heading home with five hundred pieces of paper in his pocket.

  And that was a good thing.

  Freddy was already thinking in his head stories he was going to spin:
  'O I have had a great day in the office my love!  Cash in hand!  Marvellous.  Look at the money!  Yes!  The burden of success, hey?  Don't worry, my love, I will carry the burden.  It is what any loyal husband would do!'

  It was time for Freddy to face Bolly...

  
(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)

Previous part here

There is a prequel to this story.  Check the link below if you would like to read it:

Jim's Subway part 1

===========================================================

Also take a look at:

My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
My YouTube Channel
My Books

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

It Happens at Night 1: A Grave Night

I see you there...

  Walking the streets without a care!
  You are a fool.

  My eyes are on you.  

  I see you when you take your walks in the night.

  I know what it is you do.

  And eventually I will  get you...

Freddy Colden was standing beside the bar with his hands in his pockets.  

  It was late.  It was very dark, and Freddy was tired.

  He was waiting for his uncle to return.

  'I am going to need a pint of G-Juice before I do this,' he said.

  'Don't tell me you have enlisted?' said the barman.

  'NO!  Nothing like that.  I am just paying my aunt a visit.  It's been a while.'

  'O I see.  Visiting relatives is awkward.  I went to visit my grandmother the other day.  I took my dog Rosy with me.  Rosy is a fine thoroughbred bitch and very expensive.  An my gosh is she ever trouble!'

  The barman took a swig from Freddy's drink, and rambled on with his fine tale:

  'That dog is a troublesome beast!  As soon as we got the thing in the house it ran amok.  My grandmother did not know what to do!  O!  Here's your pint, Freddy.  I hope you don't mind but I supped the top off.  I am just a bit thirsty you see.'

  'NO worries,' said Freddy.  'I ordered half a pint anyway.'

  'Well you see that is the trick,' the barman waffled on.  'A man orders half a pint, I pour him a full pint, and then drink half of it.  Then I proceeded to charge him for a full pint.  Good for business and I get to fill my belly with beer.'

  'And how is business?'

  'Not good.  Got the bailiffs checking in tomorrow.'

  'Sorry to hear about that!'

  'Don't be.  It's just life.  Things have been tough in Fenwick since the war,' said the barman.

  'But the war ended eighty years ago, didn't it?'

  'Not that war.  The street war.  You know the one between the Brazilian Cartel and the King family up the road?  Dreadful business indeed.'

  'O yes.  I heard about that.  Nasty stuff,' said Freddy, sadly.  'Who would have thought we would live in times like this.  I mean when I was a lad you never heard about such horrible things.  The streets were safe.  I mean we still had murderers and creeps and degenerates and all that sort of stuff, but you would never hear about cartels and that kind of thing, not here in Fenwick.  The world has gone mad!  I mean what do the Brazilians want in this poxy town?'

  'That stuff you are holding right now in your hand,' the barman returned darkly.  'G-Juice!  Ever since that stuff sneaked into the market everyone once to control it.  Now you listen to this, Freddy!  I know what goes on in the street because I was homeless for ten years and I am about to go homeless again.  I know what happens out in the alleys and street corners when the lights go out.  There are gangs.  Thugs.  And it is not just the Brazilians we have to worry about.  O no!  There are the Irish.  They setup shop a few years ago.  The Irish and the Brazilians have been fighting a covert war for the last three years.  So watch yourself out there, Freddy.  There's a war going on right now!'

  'Trust me!  I will be very careful!'

  Just then the door opened and in stepped a bizarre, six foot stick of man.  His hair was white with age, his brow thick set permanently furrowed and brooding.  His eyes were dark and dead.  His skin was pale and sickly.

  So this was Uncle Lucien.

  He looked like he was wearing makeup and had just stepped off of the set of a horror movie, but no, that was just how he looked.

  ALL THE TIME.

  He never changed his clothes.

  His coat was covered in cobwebs.  

  He stank like a grave.

  Now Lucien was a mystery to all.

  Did he care about his looks?

  Was he even still alive?

  Nobody knows?

  And nobody cared.

  Nevertheless he was a customer and the barman was happy to see him.

  With na few awkward swings of his long rotten legs Lucien joined them both at the bar.

  'Ah!  Lucien my dear fellow!  Can I offer you a drink?' said the barman.

  'I never drink,' said the pale man.  'A man needs his wits in these dark days.  The streets are very dark.  Very foul.  A mans mind is his only defence.  A weak man can defeat a strong man so long as his brain remains sharp.  And my brain is very sharp.  As sharp as a deadly dagger.  The sort of dagger that a man might use to murder another man in a dark and cold lonely alley on the edge of the city.  The murder would take place preferably near to the dock so that the body could be slipped nicely into the cold waters below and be forgotten about forever.'

  'Well Mr Lucien, you fine fellow!  If you don't want a drink then I will have one for you,' the barman replied.

  As the barman began to drink his fill Freddy grabbed his uncle and pulled him over to a quiet corner where they could talk alone in peace.  

  'We will sit down here and talk.'

  'I can't sit down,' Lucien replied, gravely.  'I can lie down on the floor.  But I have not been able to sit down on a chair for the last ten years.  Rot in the knee caps!  My legs simply won't bend.'

  FINE!

  So Freddy propped his uncle in the corner like a lamp and then dragged a seat over just for himself.  

  'Now listen up, uncle.  Are you ready to do this?'

  'On a fine dark night like this?  Why my dearest of dear nephews!  I am always ready...'

  'Splendid!  Did you bring it?  Did you...  bring the shovel?'

  'I always bring my shovel.  We have a deep bond, my shovel and I.  It is the only thing I have ever loved in my life.  Some people out there might say I am a very sad man, but I would disagree with them.  Yes.  It is true.  The only thing I have ever loved is a shovel, but then you know how that old saying goes like don't you Freddy?  It is better to have loved than to never have loved at all.'

  'Okay.  That's fine.  Let's get to business.'

  Lucien never smiled.

  But if you were there with them at the time in that dank drinking den you would have been able to tell by the sudden pips and beats in his sly little voice that Uncle Lucien couldn't wait to crack on with business!

  After Freddy had polished off his drink the two of them set out and walked over to the local church...

  Ah well...  actually to the graveyard that was behind it!

  'There she is!' said Freddy.

  They stepped up to the gravestone.

  Martha Colden 1937 to 2020.

  'Marvellous,' said Lucien.  'Should we begin?'

  O yes!

  It was time indeed to dive right into things...

  He might have had really rotten legs, but his arms were good and strong, and with several great strokes Uncle Lucien had heaved up all six feet of soil and clay, eventually revealing the oaken box below.  

  The two men put masks on before finally cracking the casket open.

  Ignoring the very putrid body within, Uncle Lucien reached down and grasped the broach the haggard corpse was wearing.

  When they had it they hammered the lid back down and forced all the soil back into place.

  Uncle Lucien held the pretty broach up against the moonlight.

  ‘A job well done!’

  They sold it that morning to their favourite fence for the fetching sum of £250.

  They split the profits half each, respectfully, and then each man turned and walked away like they didn’t know each other.

(Remember!  All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)

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