Jim's Subway 35: A Train to Somewhere...

Seeing as he was becoming rather handy with his fists of late Jim thought he would start the day by punching Rod in the face.  

  He did this as soon as he got back home.

  'Your the one to blame for all of this madness!  You are scum to me!  I should never have gone into partnership with you.  What was I thinking?  There is an old saying back in my town, never go into business with friends.  And never ever go into business with idiots - not unless you can control them.  And I thought I could control you, Rod.  I mean, look at you.  Dithering fool.  All you had to do was put us up, let me and Butch do our business, brew our drink, and stay out of things!  NO!  I won't let you speak, Rod.  You are listening to me now.  You have a lot to answer for.  You don't understand how much I have lost in the last few days.  I came to Fenwick with nothing.  Not a coin in my pocket, not a dream in my head.  Then i found the recipe, and I thought, "This is it!  My lucky break!  Finally."  Everyone gets a lucky break and this was mine.  But you had to mess it up!  What was it again?  O yes - "We need a loan!"  But Fenwick does not have a bank, like a normal city so we have to get involved with a cult!  That on you, Rod.  Do you have any idea what they tried to do to me?  They tried to jab me with a damn needle!  They wanted me to join the army and fight for them half away across the world.  How does that happen, Rod?  It happens in my life.  This is what happens tome, time and time again.  When things are finally going well for me something stupid happens.  Fine.  We needed a loan.  I agree But how am I supposed to spend it building my business when I am across the Atlantic fighting the Brazilians?  Answer me tat Rod.  How do I brew G-Juice when I have a gun in my hand, and another in my face?  Do you have any idea what you have put me through, what I had to go through trying to escape from those lunatics?  Two madmen took a chainsaw to me!  That's right.  I almost died.  I had to fight my way out.  Look at my knuckles they are bloody!  But now I think it is time to bloody them up some more.  With your blood, Rod, and... o wait!  Where did you get all those bruises from?  I haven't started to beat you up yet?'

  'The Tailors raided the house while you were away.  They didn't take anything but they attacked me, and left me for dead.  I am lucky to be alive right now Jim,' Rod replied.  'You see, you are not the only one who has paid the price.  You look in good shape for a man nearly jabbed and sent packing abroad.  Me.  I can barely walk right now.  I think they might have broken one of my legs...'

  'Damn!  I am sorry Rod.  I can't believe they did this to you,' said Jim.  'Don't worry!' he patted him gently on the shoulder.  'We will figure this out.  You have got a friend standing right here, Rod.  We are in the same mess and we are going to help each other out.  Do you understand?  Good.'  

  'It's no good.  Nothing can help us now.  This is a war,' Rod replied.  'I know the Tailors.  I know them from old.  Once they have marked you, they get you.  They reap what they sow.'  

  Rod showed his right wrist.  He had there the mark of the Tailors too.

  It was a horrible sight.

  'I am in their pocket,' Rod continued.  'I owe them my life.  They have been good tome in the past.  They have given me work.  They have helped me make money.  But now it is time for them to reap!  Alas!  I don't think I have much longer left to breathe in this world.  When they return, they will finish me.  I am content to die.  It is what it is.  But YOU, Jim.  You are young.  It's not your time, not yet.  I think the reason why you are still alive is because it was meant to be.  The Brazilians didn't kill you, Jim, because it is not yet your time.  I say again, my end is nigh, but I beseech you, Jim, run away.  Get out of Fenwick before it is too late.'

  Suddenly Butch was standing at the front of the room, and he had a firearm holstered on his hip...

  He looked calm, and yet ominous.

  'He's right.  We have to escape.  And I know a way,' he said.  'I have been looking around town and I have found a way of escape.  Are you with me?  We must act soon, before they return...'

  Jim told his friends that he needed time to think...

  He didn't tell them that he also needed a drink - he kept that to himself, until he found a bottle of whiskey he had hidden away upstairs.  And to the succulent ravages of the old demon he emptied his soul:

  'I am not going to die!' he said.  'I am going to live and I am going to be rich!'

  He said it again and again as the molten grain gushed down his throat:

  I am going to live!  I am going to be rich!

  Jim was standing in his bedroom alone listening to the buzz of the lights - the hum of the electrics it comforted him.  Like a man who loves the countryside loves to listen to the songs of the birds, Jim  a man who loved the city loved listening to the sound of electricity humming in the gloom.

  He made his decision then.

  He was going to go with Butch.

  In those moments he made a plan and it was this:

  Escape the tailors.  Wait for the war to go quiet.  And then return to reclaim his fortune!

  Simple and pure.

  It couldn't fail!

  He called Butch in:

  'I am ready to go with you.'

  Jim said goodbye to Rod, it was the last time he was going to see him.  The poor man had been marked, and the Tailors were going to reap him soon.

  Jim only had this one thing to say to Rod before he left:

  'Stay safe.'

  After that Jim followed Butch all the way to the train station.

  And a train finally pulled in  - and O it was a long thing...

  Until it final stopped.

  But it was the end carriage that caught Jim's attention, for it was ornately grooved and ostentatiously coloured.  It looked like something that should have been attached to a carnival, with bright reds and golds, like it was on fire!

  Jim saw the curtains twitch on the rear room - someone was watching him from there...

  There was a bad feeling about that train!

  That was when Jim noticed something very frightening...

  The track back out of Fenwick was still closed!!

  No!

  What was this?

  Was Jim being led into a trap?

  But Butch was loyal!

  Right?

  ...Surely this wasn't happening...

  Jim didn't know whether to play cool, like everything was fine and normal, or go crazy and make a run for it.  

  He wasn't going to fight Butch - there was no way Jim would be able to tackle such a huge man - Butch had enough fat on him to absorb any punch thrown in his direction.  And his skin was tough like leather - clock him one and you would actually do yourself an injury.

  So fighting was off the menu.

  But he could still run away...

  That was a viable option.

  But run where?  

  Jim was running out of hideouts.  

  He couldn't go back to Rod's place.  Rod would most certainly be dead by now and his home would be under the control of the Tailors.  

  There was nowhere for Jim to go!

  'All aboard,' said Butch.  'You better go first, Jim.  Don't worry.  I will be right behind you.'

  Butch had unholstered his firearm.

  'Are there bullets in that gun of yours, Butch?' said Jim.  

  'The gun is real,' Butch replied.  'I don't play at war.  It will keep us safe.'

  'Safe form who?'

  'The enemy,' Butch replied.

  'Surely that last thing we want is to draw attention,' said Jim.  'Anyway.  i though the plan was to leave Fenwick.  Once we are out of town the war will be over...'

  Butch started waving his firearm at Jim, motioning him to move into the carriage.  'We better get moving,' he said.

  'It looks like you are ordering me onto this train, Butch,' Jim continued.  'But this train isn't going anywhere is it, Butch?  Because the tunnel pout of town is still closed.  I have eyes, Butch.  I can see, funnily enough.  So perhaps you would like to tell me what this is?  Why are you armed?  Why are we getting onto this dead train?'

  Butch cocked the firearm and raised it to the back of Jim's head.  'It's over boss,' he said.  'I would have dropped you in the Sewer - that's where most goons go to die.  But they wanted to see you first.  Now move, before you make me pull the trigger.  Let's not make am mess of this, Jim.  The safety is off and a bullet will fly if you test me!'

  'You can't do this Butch!'

  'Yes I can!'

  'Why?'

  'Times change!'

  Jim couldn't except the other mans explanation.

  There had to be more to this than meets the eye.

  "I reckon they have bought him!" Jim thought.  "Greedy scumbag!  If I can only delay him from pulling that trigger...  Damn!  I'll have revenge!"

  Jim decided to fall back on his only remaining option, which was to start begging for his life - again.  

  Twice in one day!  

  Begging for mercy from the Brazilians and now his supposed best mate.  It didn't seem logical that one man could be dealt so much bad luck in such a short space of time!

  'Don't do this Butch,' Jim started.  'We need each other.  Together we are a team, and as a team we can survive.  I am going to guess that the enemy is paying you to do this.  They want you to change sides.  Well listen to me now!  They will betray you.  Put the gun down now and let us talk about this like adult men.'

  'I don't want to talk,' Butch replied.  'I just want you to get onto the train.'

  'I don't want to get on that train.'

  'Then I am going to have to shoot you.'

  'So that's it then, eh?  That's how things are going to end, you putting a bullet in the back of my head, executing me like some prisoner of war.  This is outrageous!  We are supposed to be friends Butch.  We are supposed to be looking out for one another!  It can't end like this!'

  'It can end like this, and it will,' said Butch.  'And I don't have friends.  I don't need friends.  I do what I have to.  I am a survivor.  It's the Fenwick way.  If you were a local, you would understand.'

  'But we are business partners.  We were going to sell G-Juice and make a fortune!  We have just signed a lucrative business contract...'

  Then Jim noticed the mark of the Tailors on Butch's right fist.

  'So you have seen it?' Butch replied.  'Yes.  That's right.  I am with the Tailors now, Jim.  And they want your business, literally.  And as a partner I am happy to hand them the deeds.  The keys to the kingdom, as it were.  There is no point trying to resist these guys, Jim.  The Tailors rule Fenwick!  That's right.  They are literal the kings and queens of this town.  You can't go against royalty.  It's impossible, even with all the money in the world.  No business deal can save you against their might.  Once you become their enemy, it is over.  Literally OVER!  Now get on board the train!'

  Jim heard this, and in his heart knew Butch to be right - there was no fighting a power like the Tailors.  The Tailors were the DNA of the town - if the might of the Brazilian army couldn't topple them then nobody could.  

  Jim was an outsider, and he was alone.

  Jim had lost everything at that point:

  His business.

  His friends.

  But he wasn't about to give up on his life.

  Jim could have, should have died weeks ago.  But he didn't.  he felt that there was a reason why fate chose to keep him alive.  

  So Jim continued to argue for his right to live.

  'Now listen to me Butch,' he pressed on.  'I understand your position.  The Tailors are very powerful and yes, very scary as well.  but it doesn't mean to say we should cower before them!  We can still make it big by ourselves.  The G-Juice deal with Mr King still stands.  Let's work together again.  We will make peace with the Tailors.  We will give them a sizeable cut of the business!  We can all benefit from this!'

  When Butch heard this he sneered, and then he threw back at Jim this nugget:

  'People who work with you end up dying, horribly!  Jo, remember him?  And Rod.  I don't want to end up like them, at the bottom of the Sewer.  No Way.  I want to live a long and good life.  And that is what the Tailors have promised me.  They have given me bread and money and a roof over my head.  They have given me a way out!  I don't have to be a gangster no more.  I never wanted this violent life.  I know I look like the kind of guy cut out for all that rough and tough business, but it's all just an act!  All I have ever wanted is a normal life, you know what I mean?  I want a family and I want kids.'

  Jim couldn't believe what he was listening to.

  What madness was this?

  Had Butch been cloned?

  Had he been abducted by aliens and replaced by a lily livered doppelgänger?

  'Have you gone soft in the head Butch?' Jim replied.  'Everyone knows you to be a vicious thug.   And you also live in Fenwick.  I have only been in this town for a few weeks but I can tell you this much and that is Fenwick is no right place to raise children.  Good lord man!  I imagine you must have a small brain to compensate for your large girth but try to think about it for a second at least.  There is a war going on in the streets!  What are going to do when the fighting starts again?  Are you going to train your kids to duck and dive from the roving Brazilian militia?  Are you going to sign them up with the Tailors?  Is that the plan?  By the age of twelve they will be injected and sent across the Atlantic to fight for the Americans somewhere lord knows where.   Is that what you want for you children, Butch?  Do you really want them to be turned into aggressive drugged up warriors fighting for another man's cause?  Because that is what will happen, I am telling you!  This town is dangerous!  It is full of shadows and secrets.  And you want to raise your children in a hell hole like this?  Don't do it Butch!  They will hate you when they finally grow up - and they will grow up, kids have a funny habit of doing that.  And when the time comes they will say of you, "My father was a bastard who raised me in a pit!"  Is that what you want Butch?  You want your children to hate you?  Don't add more wood to the spreading fires of this dark war.'

  It was a fine speech.

  But Butch just acted like he hadn't listened to a word of it.

  'This is the last time I am going to tell you to get into the train, Jim,' he replied.

  It was no use!

  Jim had been defeated...

  Jim cursed and started shaking his head.

  It was over.

  Jim was too tired to continue the fight.

  Excepting his dark fate Jim slowly he turned around and limped aboard the train...

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

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Alien Invasion of Cheltenham

The martians decided it was time to make their move...

  They had been plotting and planning and prattling for long enough, and their leader, The High Lord of Mars, decided to make peace with his rivals and unite the tribes.  

  United as one the Martians finally had the numbers to take on Earth...

  'But where do we struck first, My Lord?' one of the Martians asked of their master.

  'We will hit the Earthlings where it hurts the most,' the High Lord replied.  'We will attack the town of Cheltenham!'

  It sounded like a fair plan.

  So the Martians set out with all their power and struck Earth right at its heart.

  Their attack was met with NO resistance.

  This initially confused the alien menace and they were forced to hold a council.

  'Why do the Earthlings not attack?  Maybe it is a trap?'

  Yes indeed!

  What if it was a trap...?

  'Instead of a direct assault we will strike with stealth,' said the High Lord.  'We will go down on Earth disguised a chickens.  No one will suspect a thing.  Then we will research our enemy and try to work out their sinister plan...  If they do indeed have a trap set we will expose it and destroy it!'

  So the Martians landed on Earth disguised as chickens.

  They soon discovered that it was Cheltenham race week, and all the humans in town were making bets on horses and losing as much money as possible!

  'Looks interesting,' said the High Lord.  'We should place a few bets as well.  It will help us to mingle in, and make us look less suspicious.'

  So the Martians transformed their currency, which was marbles, into cash, and started making bets on which horses they thought might win.

  They made as many bets as possible in order to look normal and natural and not confuse their enemy...

  But by the end of the day the Martians had lost their marbles, and had nothing left to play with!

  DISASTER!

  The High Lord sighed with sadness and weariness.  'We have lost all of our money betting on those damn horses!  Now we don't have any resources left to fund the invasion of Earth.  We can't even afford to get back on board our ship!  Damn!  What are we going to do?'

  'We are going to have to get ourselves jobs just like the Earthlings,' said a fellow Martian.  'It's the only way.  And if we can earn a bit of cash maybe we can gamble again and win our fortune back!'

  'Yes indeed.  A fine plan!' said the High Lord.  'And once we have gambled back our fortune we can rekindle the invasion of Earth!  Marvellous!  Let's get to it men!'

  So the Martians eventually found themselves gainful employment in the local McDonald's down the road.  They had to interview first, which was awkward, but the fast food restaurant was so understaffed they didn't care if they had people dressed like giant chickens working behind the counter so long as they worked.

  And so that is how it was.

  And the Martians worked, and they worked, and they saved their hard earned cash.

  Then the time came!

  And they returned to the betting office, and they gambled, and they gambled...

  And they lost everything!
  'Damn!' cursed the Martian High Lord.  'We are going to have to work a bit more in that McDonald's place, lads.  But don't worry!  I am sure we can do this!  And once we have earned back the funds, we will take over the Earth!  Remember the cause men!'

  And they chanted:

  For Mars!  For glory!  We will win the war!

  After that they plodded back to McDonald's and spent the rest of their days as a bunch of miserable wage slaves and gambling degenerates.

  They slowly became very glum.

  They had never felt that way before back on Mars...

  Experiencing depression for the first time the Martians eventually turned to alcohol and were often sighted by the locals of Wetherspoons...

  They had become the very enemy they sought to destroy... 

THE END

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Jim's Subway 34: the Price of Sanity

Imagine having an enemy so efficient that they could corner and capture you within twenty minutes at any given notice, at any moment and anytime.  

  You act against them in any possible way that they deem offensive, and it is done for you.

  I imagine most people would agree that an enemy of this kind would be very terrifying to deal with.

  Most people would not want to have an enemy like this.

  Jim certainly did not want such an enemy.  But too bad for him because he had it.

  O yes!  The poor man was shtuck right up to this neck at that moment in his life...

  Jim did not know how it happened but it did - the enemy must have been waiting for him.

  Twenty minutes walk from the Bankers House and almost home Jim was attacked by several large and ugly men.  

  They came at him from three different directions.

  It was a trap!

  Jim guessed that the thugs had been placed there purposefully before the meeting with the Banker had started, and had these orders placed in their heads:

  GET JIM!

  If Jim did not go along with the Bankers deal then these men were set up and ready to grab him!

  It was  a straightforward if somewhat ham-fisted plan, but to Jim at least it made sense.  

  "They can do what they like!" Jim thought as they dropped the bag over his head.  "I am not being press-ganged into the army!"

  If this was the end then let is be so.

  He was ready for it.

  His time on Earth had been relatively short, but it had not been too bad.  He had drank more the average amount of alcohol any other human could hope to consume in their time, known a fair few weird people, and had almost got the chance to make big money.

  That last thing upset him the most...

  He was almost there!  He had almost cracked the system.  Yes him, Jim the local nobody had almost been given the chance to live it up with the big boys - the fat cats.

  Well, it didn't matter now.

  It was time for him to buckle up and accept his fate.

  When the bag was off Jim found himself standing in a stone room, possibly a cellar, or a garage.  There were no windows and the only way out that Jim could see was a set of steps leading up through a trapdoor.  But that way was blocked by two men.

  Another two men were standing either side of him, and they were armed.

  One of them, a fierce looking man with a scar and a completely shaven head was pointing a gun directly at Jim.  Indeed, the end of the gun was sitting an inch or two away from Jim's face.

  For a while all three men stood there in the dark room, saying absolutely nothing.

  Eventually Jim broke, and said something:

  'I don't understand why you are doing this!  I can find a way to pay you back the money we borrowed from you.  All this, shooting me in cold blood, it just seems like overkill!  Let's discuss this like men.  Please.  I beg you.  We don't need to act like beasts.  We can sort this out!  Give me a chance!'

  Nobody responded.

  As hopeless as it was all looking Jim felt that he should press on giving chance a go, and continue pleading for his life.

  I mean look at it form his point of view:

  His captors had not pressed the trigger yet!

  Maybe they did not mean to kill him.

  Maybe they were just trying to frighten him...

  If this was so then there was still hope to be had...

  'I can pay you back with interest,' he said.  'It doesn't have to be this way.  I was so close to finalising a lucrative business deal.  The contracts had been sign.  The pay out was going to be huge!  And it is not a joke!  I have this drink, it's called G-Juice.  Everyone loves it.  But only I have the formula.  Only I can brew it.  It was the key to my business.  More people will want to buy my drink in the future.  Now listen to this!  Once I have been paid for this business, there will be other deals.  More companies will want to purchase my drink.  The money is going to flow.  it is going to be good!  I can share this wealth with you!  So you see, killing me right here and now like this would be a waste of your time.  Let me live and I will divide my future fortunes with you.  I am not trying to trick you, either.  I can show you the contract I just signed Mr King.  It has his signature and everything.  I am going to make serious money very soon.  Just give me another week.  Let me prove myself.  Follow me home now and i will show you the paperwork.  Let me prove now to you that I am indeed a man of my word.  I want to make money.  I am going to make money.  We al want money, and you want money too?'

    Jim's captors had been listening intently.  After Jim had finished his speech the bold man sneered and said, 'Actually we don't want money.'

  When Jim heard this he knew that he was in a very bad situation.

  He was not going to be able to bribe them.

  And they obviously did not care how much he begged for mercy.

  Maybe it really was over for him...

  'Alright damn it!  Put your guns down!  I will take your damn injection!  Let's just get this over with!  You are fools!  You don't know me!  No amount of hormones are ever going to make me into a super soldier!  You are wasting your time!  But if you have to do it then do it!'

  'I don't think you understand who we are exactly,' said the bold man.

  'Well you have not said anything so far so no I have no idea who you are,' Jim replied.  

  'We are the Enforcers, underground mercenaries who serve the will and the him of the Brazilian Cartel.'

  What?

  No!

  Jim couldn't believe it!  

  So he was not in the hands of the Bankers men - nay worse!

  He had somehow managed to fall foul of the enemy!

  'You work for the Tailors, no?  We can see their mark on your wrists!  You were running from them, yes?  We are ready to strike a deal with you.  Will you listen, or should I finally pull the trigger?'

  Jim said he would listen.

  'First let there be no delusions, you are going to die this day,' the bold man continued in his grave voice.  'But I am going to let you chose how you die: quick or slow.  Tell me now that which you prefer?'

  To have to make a decision like this made Jim feel dreadfully depressed, but he knew it had to be done.

  So he did it, and asked for option a. a quick death.

  'It's been a difficult day and I just want it over and done with,' Jim replied.

  'An honourable choice,' said the bold Brazilian.  'Now all you have to do is give us the location of the Tailors base of operations.'

  'They work for the Banker in the Bankers House,' said Jim.  'You can't miss it.  It is the largest house in Fenwick, right by the castle gate.  Looks like something out of one of those old horror movies, you know the kind?  The ones with Boris Karloff...  And that other chap...'

  'You mean Vincent Price?' said the armed and bold Brazilian.  'I am a huge fan of him.'

  'Well actually I was thinking about Peter Lorre but I agree with what you are saying anyway,' Jim replied.  'I liked those old movies.  My neighbour used to watch them every night and so I would grab something to eat and set up my grandfathers old telescope!'

  'What was the telescope?  Is it some kind of British fad?'

  'No!  I am cheap and I can't afford a tv license so I would just watch movies through my neighbours window.  Don't knock it!   You can't beat watching a nice bit of free television.  And to think I was days, possibly even hours away from signing a contract that was going to set me up for life as a millionaire  Sigh  And now you are going to put a bullet in my head.'

  'Ah yes!  You remind me!  It is time to shoot you, my good man,' said the Brazilian.  'A pity.  I was starting to like you, British man, but now it is time to end things.  Well, you just stand there for a minute or two while I go a fetch the chainsaw...'

  THE WHAT?

  'Hang on there a minute I asked for quick death,' Jim spoke up with great haste and horror in his tongue.

  Jim would admit that he was a weird man who had lived a very weird life, but he was normal enough just about to not want to die at the hands of a lunatic wielding a chainsaw.

  'And you will have a quick death, my fellow, a quick death by chainsaw,' the bold aggressor returned.  'Let us begin our journey!'  

  He then ordered his comrade to bring the chainsaw in.

  Jim asked why he could not just be shot instead, and his bold captive shrugged and said simply, 'Firearms are illegal in the United Kingdom so to avoid any trouble with customs while entering the country we packed fake guns.  Hey!  Don't knock it, as you British say.  Look at the situation now.  It has worked!  Admit it, you are scared to death right now!'

  They were holding fake guns?

  The bold Brazilian was a much larger man by comparison for sure, but Jim was not afraid to smack him round the face if it meant escaping a a terrible death by a chainsaw - which is what he did.

  Jim actually managed to knock his captive out clean with one blow of his clenched hand!

  NICE!

  The second man looked stunned by what was going on, and then turned to run away.  He vanished very quickly through the back door, not before discarding his fake firearm and exclaiming that he was not from Brazil and that he was actually an actor who needed the money to pay for his poor mothers medical bills and that he had a lot to drink that evening and didn't really know what was going on.

  So that was it!  The deed was done.  His enemies were beat!

  Jim looked at his bloody knuckles with total shock.

  He didn't know he had it in him...

  He had singlehandedly dealt with the Brazilian Cartel all by himself and with no help whatsoever.

  Marvellous!

  What an accomplishment...

  And if Jim had in him the juice to bring down a whole terrorist organisation then surely there could be few tasks out there that he could fail at finishing if he truly put his mind to it?

  But Jim couldn't be bothered to think too much about it at that moment.

  His life was still on and he just wanted to enjoy his freedom...

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

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Bullfinch recorded on camera

I managed to record this wonderful bird with my camera just in time. Even though they are not rare I just find them so difficult to find... So I had to take advantage of the moment and film them when I could.

#birds #nature #bullfinch #birdlovers

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Jim's Subway 33: The Price of Money

   Open the paper...

  Read the words:

  "We have a job for you!  Meet us at the Bankers House..."

  It was then moment Jim had been dreading the most!

  It was a nightmare he hoped he would never have, and yet there it was living itself out right in front of him.

  My nightmare is alive inside of me.  I am living it.

  I am awake and my nightmare is living with me.

  O awake!  Awake!  For my sake awake!

  But no...

  There is only sleep.  

  Jim read the message again, hoping that the words written on it would melt away and that he had only dreamed it and that he was really just going mad and holding a blank sheet of paper...

  But it was not so!

  Meet us at the Bankers House...

  'I am not going,' said Jim.  

  'You have got no choice on the matter, my son,' said Rod.  'You done the crime and now you must do the time.  It's just how it goes!'

  'That's just it!  I didn't commit any crimes!' Jim retorted.  

  Jim was really growing to quite hate Rod.  Right then he just wanted to punch the little man.  

  'You borrowed money from the Banker.  You can carry the mark of the Tailors.  It's now on your head to pay them back!'

  'Now you listen tome,' said Jim angrily.  'This was your mess!  You got involved with the people in the castle, you took out  loan you couldn't pay back.  You lied to me!  You told me you were rich, but you are as bankrupt as your brain.  Damn you!  And now all of a sudden your problems become my problems, and I receive this letter addressed tome personally.  Why me?  Why not you?  It should be you going to meet the Banker.  You should be the one being called up for the job!  It's not fair!  And I don't care if that makes me sound like a whining idiot, because it's true.  I was winning until you got us into the war with the Cartel.  I have a right to be miserable and angry.  And I blame YOU, Rod.  You are my downfall.  I am not responding to this letter.  I am going to stay here and get drunk.  YOU, Rod, can go to the Banker.  You can do the job.  I am not getting involved anymore.  I am done.  I have had enough.  I am tired and I need to rest.  The only thing I am fitting for right now is whiskey.'

  Rod heard this and started shaking his head.  'It doesn't work that way,' he said.  'You have been freshly marked, and as a fresher you are obliged to prove yourself by completing a job.'

  'You make me sound like I am their slave!' said Jim.

  'Ostensibly you are...  At the very least you are in debt to them,' Rod replied.  'Look!' he explained, 'it's like this:  We needed the money for the business, and we need the Tailors for their protection.  It's a good deal!  Just do the job for them and they will leave us alone!'

  Jim heard Rod's words, and drank them in.  He finally understood the situation.  He still wasn't happy about any of it, but he knew what he had to do.

  'Very well, I will get my coat,' he said.  'I will meet that scumbag at the Bankers House.  I will hear out what they have to say.  I will do what they want me to do.  And then it will be over.  I can't believe I let it get to this, but alright.  I get it.  There is no other way.  It's a setup.  Fine.  I am off.'

  Halfway out of the door he turned aggressively and pointing a finger at Rod he said, 'This is only happening because to me because I was weak.  I will never be weak again!  Today the game changes.  And once I have taken back control a messy situation like this will never take place again.  I am fed up of being used in other peoples games: First it was Ivan, and after him I had to deal with that DC Peddler prat.  And now it's this business with the Banker, a man who I hardly know and yet he somehow holds my en tire life in his hands.  I promise after this day I will never be taken for a fool again.'

  

Jim reluctantly approached the Bankers House.

  The door opened before him as he approached.

  Inside the building there were two men waiting to greet him:

  The first man was the Banker himself, of course, because it was his house Jim was expecting to see the man, but the second man sitting in the corner nursing a glass of whiskey was a complete stranger to Jim.

  He had literally never seen the man before.  

  The stranger got up and shook Jim by the hand.  He was an older gentleman, with white hair sweep over into a parting, and he was dressed from foot to head in a military uniform.  He even had medals pinned to his left breast.

  Who was this man?

  Jim soon found it.

  'I am Major Shirker,' said the stranger.  'I served for twelve years in the British Army, and fifteen in the US Marines.'

  'Why did you serve in the American army as well?' said Jim.  'Seems a bit odd?'

  'What can I say?  I am eccentric man, not only that but the Americans needed my skills in eradicating their enemies within the Brazilian Cartel.  It is my speciality, sniffing out gangsters!' said Major Shirker.  'There is a war going on right now between the Brazilian Underground and the US military.  The news agencies are very careful never to cover any of it!  It is a Secret War!  And a war that I hope to end soon!  I know where the Brazilians keep their secret base.  Because you see, I served in the Brazilian army as well as the US army.  That's how I know what I know.'

  Jim asked the Major if he ever served in another army in his time as a military man.

  The Major appeared to be flattered by the question and responded to it with great happiness and pride, 'I have served in many armies, my good man.  The best army I ever served in was the army of the Isle of Man.'

  'The Isle of Man has its own army?  Really?  Tell me about it,' said Jim.  It was a good question, one that anybody else would have asked.  

  'The Isle if Man defence force was setup ten years ago when the British Secret Forces feared a full scale attack from the Brazilian armed forces.  You see at the time the Cartel were trying to enveloped a war between the Brits and the Brazilians.  The Brazilians were trying to forge a secret military alliance with the Irish.  The Isle of Man was going to serve our fine country as a staging point for an invasion of Ireland, if necessary, incase the Irish agreed to base Brazilian troops on their soil.  Thankfully that hasn't happened not yet.  But the Irish did invite the Brazilians over for drinks...'

  'So how long as this war with Brazil been going on for?' said Jim.  'Sorry for my ignorance but it is the first I have ever heard of any of this.'

  'For thirty years,' Major Shirker replied.  'It is a secret war!  There are many secret wars that the government trees to keep quiet, you may not know it but we are also at war with Devon Island.  The island is said to be empty, but the British and the Americans think there might be an enemy army there, possibly the Brazilians again.  The Cartel are very powerful, and maybe the most dangerous enemy the world has faced since the Second World War.'

  'Good gosh!  Who would have thought?'

  'Anyway!  Less of that kind of talk it time to get to business!' the Major replied.  'We need soldiers like you, Jim, to step up and fight the good fight!'

  Hang on a minute?  Did the Major just refer to Jim as a soldier?

  'Indeed,' the Major pressed on.  'The Brazilians could make an attack on our position at any time, and we must be ready for them!  We need brave men like you to fight the good fight!  Now roll up your sleeve!  I need to find a vein!'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  Jim had a right to be concerned, and even a little frightened.

  'You must be injected,' the Major continued.  The Major opened a large suitcase and took out of it a very very very very large needle.  The tip must have been over a foot in length!  'I will try to stab you in one go,' said the Major.  'Let me warn you!  The needle can break so you are going to have to be calm and still!  If it breaks you might require surgery, and then we will have to start this business again - which will be unpleasant for all of us!  Ah Jim!  This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you...'

  'Why are you doing this?' said Jim.

  'This jab contains a very powerful serum,' said the Major.  'A potent formula that stimulates muscle structure, and increases hormone activity.  So you are going to be a very angry man for the next few days!  The effects of the jab will run out after five weeks, in which case you will be jabbed again, continually, until the war is over.'

  'So what are you exactly expecting me to do here?' said Jim.  'All this talk of jabs and hormones is scary.  I am a drunken and loner:  Do you understand what that means for my life?  I need my hormones to be dead, not reawakened.'

  'Well your life is going to change a great deal from today, Jim,' the Major pressed on.  'You are a soldier now.  That's right!  You have been caught in the draft!  It's time for you to man up and be a man!  The soldiers of our army are strong lusty men, fierce brutish killers!  It's time for you to step up, Jim, and do what a man must do!'

  Jim was aghast to hear this.

  So they were going to put him in the army?

  This was all his nightmares combined into one!

  The Major continued, 'Yes!  That's it!  You heard me very right!  You are going to serve on the front line in the defence against the Brazilians!  You are going to forge history, and help your country win the Secret War!'  

  O no he was not!  

  Jim punched the Major, and kneed the Banker.  Then he stamped on the needle and ran away.

  

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

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#obunga in Skyrim

Obunga makes his move on Skyrim...  The battle lines have been drawn!  Let's rid this fair land of this horrendous menace...

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Jim's Subway 32: Meet the Banker

Let me introduce you to the banker...

  He lives in the Gatehouse by the turn in the hill.

  He is the only one who can help us.  Now listen!  He is a very dangerous man and I am turning to him as our last resort!  

  Fenwick stretching out with its empty streets and dully lit lamplights was looking lonely enough for a lonely person to hide in.

  'I am annoyed that we are doing this,' said Jim.  'I don't like the idea of borrowing more money!'

  'Well it's like I said,' Rod replied, 'I am turning to the banker as our last resort.  I am sorry, Jim.  But this is just how things are for us right now.  Our hands have been forced!'

  There was the old gatehouse standing between the hill and the bridge upon a rocky bluff overlooking the Fenwick River.  It was an old and ominous building.  To be honest Jim did not want to go near it, let alone inside it.  There was a horrible look about the place.  

  And it didn't get any better when they entered he doors.  They were greeted by a chill breeze - 'It's colder inside this place than outside,' Butch complained.  'I might have to go back out into the streets for a warm up in a minute!  How long do think this meeting is going to take Rod?"

  'As long as it is necessary,' Rod replied.

  'Who in their right mind would live in such a vile dusty old building?' said Jim, drawing his coat around him to keep out the cold.

  'Me!' said a voice from the top of the balcony, and then a figure richly dressed made their way down the spiral stairway into the hall in front of them.  'I presume that you k now who I am?' he said.

  'The Banker I guess?' said Jim.

  'And you would guess right,' the Banker returned.  'Forgive the webs and the dust.  It's just how I like it.  It gives the place a historic look,' he explained.

  "Well it makes the building look a mess," Jim thought, but he didn't say anything.

  'So you are here to talk money?'  

  'We are indeed,' said Jim.  'I am presuming you know something about the topic, what with a name like The Banker.'

  'I am the man with the money in this town and that is all you need to know,' he replied.  'Before we proceed with this you need to understand that if you want my money you need to abide by my terms.  I am going to be upfront with you.  I never lie.  My terms are harsh!  Knowing all this upfront are you ready to listen?'  

  Jim really didn't like any of this business with the Banker.  It wasn't just that the man appeared to be very dodgy he didn't know him either.  He had never even heard of the man until a day ago.  Now he was expected to place his whole fate into a strangers hands?  

  It made Jim feel cheap, like he was grovelling.  Begging.  That was what he had been reduced to.  

  His recent success had made him proud.  He felt strongly that he should be reaping the rewards of his new G-Juice business, not bending to the knee cap in hand to an odd man with a weird name.

  "I don't want any of this," he thought.  "Better to jump into the river and try to swim back home...   Flee Fenwick and it's madness forever!"

  As if hearing his thoughts Rod stepped in and replied, 'Yes, Mr Banker!  We are ready to listen to your terms!'

  'Now just hang on a minute,' spoke up Jim.  'I am not sure if I am ready to commit to these, harsh terms, as our new acquaintance plainly puts it.  There is an old saying my mother used to say about frying pans and fires.  How do we know that we are not jumping into a fire here?'

  Rod guided Jim away from the Bankers ears, and he whispered to him, 'We have to accept his terms!  He is the lesser of the two evils!  The Brazilian Cartel is far more dangerous!  They have already started to wage war on us in the streets!  The Brazilian Cartel are very public about their business.  They don't keep quiet about what they do!  Starting a house fire?  Ha!  It's like what they say on the internet: weaksauce.  O yes I mean it, house fires are just the start.  How do you fancy tanks and guns in the streets?  I know these guys.  I have seen them in action!  I know what they can do!  I was there prisoner once!  Never again.  So I beg you to swallow your pride, man up, and take the Bankers offer!'

  

  It was time to sign the deal...

  'Welcome to The Tailors!' said the Banker after the drafts were dry.

  'I beg your pardon?' Jim returned.

  'You are a part of our syndicate now,' the Banker replied.  'Now there is one final step!  Give me your right hand.  It will require cutting!'

  'Over my dead body!' Jim returned angrily.

  'As a member of the syndicate you are obliged to carry the mark!'

  'I never agreed to this!'

  'Yes you did,' The Banker replied.  'The moment you agreed to our harsh terms!  Now give me your hand!  Once you have been bled I will transfer the money to an account of your choosing!'

  'I want to know more about these, Tailors?' Jim pressed on.  

  He really didn't like the idea of being cut.

  It seemed rather to barbaric.

  And necessary.

  'All you need to know is that you are one of us,' The Banker replied.

  Then Rod rolled up his sleeve and showed that he was carrying the mark as well.  

  'We will protect you from the Brazilians - but once you have the mark there is no way out.  It's as simple as that.  Once the deed is done you will not only be under our protection but also our power.  There will come a time when it will be your responsibility to carry out a duty!  When we give the sign, you will answer.  Now give me your hand!'

  Jim offered his hand unwillingly to the Banker, who proceeded to hack a nasty mark into his flesh.

  Jim was scared.  There would be no ridding himself of that vile red sign behind his knuckles.  

  The regret was very real and raw inside Jim's heart at that moment.

  He really did feel a proper fool, and that he had committed himself to a possibly dreadful venture.  

  Who were The Tailors? 

  They had to be scary people if they insisted on cutting a mark into your skin there and then...

  Jim wanted to wipe the cut away - but it was too late.  The deed was done.

  'We have got a lot of surprises in store for you Jim my boy,' said the Banker ominously.  'We have given you a lot of money today, and we will want a lot back in return.  But we will signal you when the time comes to pay.  Trust me!  When The Tailors call you will know it,' and after he said that he gave Jim a wink with his left and eye and the proceeded to repeat, in a very aggressive whisper:

  YOU WILL KNOW.

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

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T Rex ATTACK! it almost got me!

Some gameplay footage of the PC Game, Collision Course:

So I was ambling around the thicket when the tyrant king appeared and lunged for me!

I am relatively new to the game and thought I was truly done for!  

But I was able to dispose of beast with relative ease using my pistol.  Fascinating!  

It's not as easy as it looks - you run out of ammo quite quickly.

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#obunga GETS a JOB !!!

So I am going to give this fool a job... NO! WAITE! Don't smash up the office!  AHHHHH!!!

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#obunga IN BARS!

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Jim's Subway 31: You ARE involved...

Jim just could not believe it.

  He kept saying to himself:  'How could this happen?'  Again and again until he started to go mad with it:

  'It's not possible.  This can't be happening.  No.  One man cannot be this unlucky.  I have to be missing something.  One minute I am signing a lucrative business deal that is going to forge the road to my retirement, and then the next I am in the middle of war with the Brazilian Cartel.  In two days I go from success to colossal failure.  NO!  This is not a failure.  I am underestimating the situation.  NO!  This is a disaster.'

  'Indeed it is all those things,' Rod replied.  'But it is also the reality of the situation that we are currently in.  We are living right in the middle of what I think we definitely turn out to be a catastrophe!'

  'Well this is fabulous,' Jim returned, sarcastically of course.  'Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place!  Our present position is the definition of such a thing.  I mean we might as well be stuck in a drain pipe.  I mean we are in that much of a jam!'

  Jim was waiting for his friends to say something positive to calm him down, but they both remained highly quiet.  

  Butch was sitting down playing a game of cards with himself, not caring much about the situation at all, and Rod was in such a panicky state that he was as about as useful as a chainsaw without a chain.

  'I don't know how I manage to do it,' Jim continued.  All he could do right then was moan, and so that is wha the proceeded to do!  'Every time something good happens I throw it away!  That's always been my way!  I deserve a medal for the biggest cockup in history.  My whole life has been a cockup so was my birth, my mother needed a caesarean for bloody hells sake!  That's proof right there on a silver plater that I just wasn't meant to be born.  But I was, and here I am.  Ever since my mother threw me it of home I have lived my whole life as a drifter.  Plodding from one job to the other.  It's been completely miserable.  I have only ever been happy when I am drunk.  Alcohol is the best thing in my life!  Actually, I will go one step further, it is the ONLY thing in my life!  I have got nothing but booze.  It is my rock.  It is the only thing in life that has ever really truly understood me as a man.  There is no humanity in life without booze.  I realised this truth from a very young age.  For a long time whiskey was my muse and I thought the only thing I would ever care about.  And then one day I found G-Juice.  It changed my life.  It made me realise that there is more to life than a single malt.  There is a drink out there that is stronger and better.  A drink that can literally change your life.  You know a story?    Oscar Wilde used to talk about absinthe and seeing fairies.  I used to think what tosh that was!  No drink can do that!  Ha!  But now a I know the truth.  There was one night when I drank so much G-Juice I actually met, sat down with, and had a conversation with a giant talking frog.  He talked nonsense for hours; followed me around for days like my shadow, like a ghost.  Haunting me of my failings.  So what did I do you ask?  You are not going to ask but I am going to tell you anyway - I just drank him away!  Yeah.  That's the hyper boring end to my story.  I drank him up and I drank him away.  That's when I learned the secret power of G-Juice.  The first three drinks get you to a good place.  The fourth is when you start seeing things, talking frogs, fairies...  well I wish I saw fairies but I only ever saw frogs - but on the fifth and then after that NOTHING.  Everything gets washed away.  And in the morning, NOTHING.  Every problem you ever had is gone, because it no longer exists inside of your brain.  So I guess the point I am trying to make is this:  If you have a problem then wipe it from your brain.  And that is exactly what I am going to do right now.  There is a bottle of G-Juice in the basement and I am going to go down there and drink all of it.'

  'I advise against that, indeed, very strongly in fact,' Rod finally found his voice again and spoke up.  'We are all going to need our wits to deal with this situation.  If the cartel find us drunk we might not be able to react appropriately...'

  'Who said anything about you getting drunk?' Jim replied.  'I am the one who is going to pour.  One bottle one hand one throat.  You are not getting involved with this business.  I am the one who needs a wiped brain right now.'

  'This is an undrinkable problem,' Rod continued.  'Your brain might say no, but the cartel are going to say yes.  And then they are going to wipe your brain permanently with a bullet.'

  Hearing this made Jim's blood boil.  

  There was Rod lecturing him about what he should and should not do, when he himself was the catalyst of all their woes.  It was his dodgy connections, his borrowing from dangerous lenders that had put them in the boiling pot of doom.

  It was his fault that Jims dreams, his perfect business plan, had been dashed into oblivion.

  'Don't you dare speak to me,' Jim replied, angrily.  'I never wanted to get involved with the cartel!  This is your mess!  Every single inch of it belongs to you.  You created this disaster, and so YOU own it.  Right now I cannot bear to look at you, Rod.  You make me sick and I mean physically sick.  I need you to know that you have not only destroyed my life, but my dreams as well.  But I am not going to get involved with this situation.  Like I said, you own this mess.  You started a war with the cartel, and you can end it.  Goodnight.'

  'It's not that easy,' Rod continued.  'And before you start shouting again listen to what I have to say.  I got a message this morning.  Our names were on it.  We have been blacklisted.  They want you as well as I.'

  Jim asked why.

  'Because I gave your name when I asked for the loan,' Rod explained.  'They want a portion of the business that loan created.  And it is your business.  Your name is on it as director.  If anything they probably want you more than me!'

  When Jim heard this he simply snapped.  

  He had reached his peak as a man of reserve and completely lost it with Rod, and proceeded beating the man half to death with his own hands.  

  Butch was forced to step in to pull Jim back before he killed Rod, which was something that looked very likely in the moment.

  'Well that's it we are dead,' said Jim, dusting himself down.

  'There is no running from this,' said Butch.  'You are either going to have to bow your head and except your fate, or fight.  This is a war right now and they struck first blood!  They damaged your crib, they attacked you on your own ground.  Maybe what we should do next is find out where their base is and take the fight to them!'

  'What are you talking about Butch?' said Jim.  'How did we take the fight to them?  If you haven't noticed I am a drunk, and Rod won't be able top move properly for a long time because I just smashed his face in!  We are not an army!'

  'No but I can get a few lads together!' Butch replied.  

  'O stop being so silly,' Jim replied.  'It's alright for you, Butch.  You are not blacklisted.  It's me they want, me and my beloved wonderful useful happy friend Rod down there on the floor.  Damn my knuckles are raw!  Shouldn't have punched him so hard, but he deserved it.'

  'Don't speak that way, boss,' said Butch.  'I am your friend!  I am not going to abandon you now when things are going bad.  I believe in you and I believe in the business as well.  We are going to make money together, the three of us.  Good money.  Life changing money.  So we are at war with the Brazilian Cartel?  Who cares?  We can beat them for sure.  Remember this is Fenwick, our town and our home!  And we are going to defend it!'

  'You make it sound the Battle for Britain,' Jim replied.  'And Fenwick is your home, not mine!  I got lost and stuck here, remember?'

  'Well that maybe true, but Fenwick is MY home,' Butch replied.  'And I know its streets and its ways and most important of all I know its people.  Let me put the word out, will find where the cartel are hiding.  Then I will hit them with all we have got!  We'll make them sorry the day they attack our base!'

  'Or we can get the money and pay them off,' said Rod.  

  So the beaten man wasn't dead after all.

  He could only move his lips, apparently, but the voice definitely came from his mostly defunct carcass.  

  'And how are we going to do that, genius?  It will take weeks before we get any money back from the deal we signed with King.'

  'Then we borrow the funds...'

  'Another loan?  Robbing Peter to pay Paul.  Nice idea!' Jim said sarcastically.  'I am not the smartest man alive on planet Earth, I am willing to admit that.  I mean I am at war with the cartel right now so I can't be that smart, right?  But I know what a ponzi scheme is, and such business does not tend to work out very well.'

  'We can do this I know we can,' Rod replied.

  'Says the man covered in his blood!'

  'Just give me a chance Jim,' Rod pressed on.  'There is a man in town who can help us.  He has got money, oodles of it.  But it will require a sacrifice.  But I know he can pay the cartel off.  We have to do this!  He lives in the old gate house, and has connections with the Castle staff.  Some says the blood of the old line of Fenwick flows through him, and his ancestry can be dated back to the age of Charlemagne. That might be cock and bull, but I know he is the only one who can bail us out right now.  Give me a hand up, let me find some plasters, and then I will take you to him...'

  

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

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THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

#obunga Is MEAN!

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Liminal Spaces in the Source Engine

What is it about games inside that Source Engine that makes them appear and feel so spooky?  

I have had dreams, nightmares, lucid dreams that look and feel just like the places I have seen inside Source Engine games.  It's uncanny...

I try to show this in my video.  Click on the link above ^ to learn more, thank you.

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Dinosaur ATTACK !

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Positive Fatalism : short poem

 When it's over it's over

No way back or forth - no way around,

So take your glass in hand

and be happy!

Because it's done:

Time to drink up and head out,

With a laugh in your throat and a smile on your lips

I call it positive fatalism!

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