It Happens At Night 18: Fruity Juice And Fruity Lies...

'Whoever it was who said that money can't buy happiness MUST have definitely had A LOT of money in the bank,' said Freddy.  'You would have to be rich with money in the first place to say something stupid like that.'

  'I agree,' said Wuan.  'Money is the key to everything except when you are in a grave.'

  'I am glad that you see things my way,' Freddy returned politely.  'I can't stand people who try to turn a negative situation into something positive.  It's so stupid.  When something is bad it is bad.  I remember someone who lost their legs in a car accident and the doctor said - "O well look on the bright side of things at least you are still alive!"  There is no bright side to losing your legs!  It's a joke!  And let me tell you something else as well, Wuan, there is no bright side to owing people money.  And there are people out there who I owe a lot of money.  You know I was chased out of the UK by debt collectors?  Awful business.  I lost everything, my home friends and family.  The last few years for me have been filled with disaster after disaster.'

  'Hopefully we will be able to turn that around for you soon,' said Wuan positively.  'I have a plan that I think will be highly profitable for the both of us.  We are going to make a good team you and I, Freddy, you shall see.'

  'Do you mind sharing a little bit of this plan of yours with me?'

  'Happy to!  This very night I intend to open your eyes to my scheme...'

  'Sounds good.'

  'O it is good, Freddy.  Very good.  Now let us get this done.'

  Wuan led Freddy to the gas station.

  The building had a basement that could be accessed by opening a door on the other side of the counter.  Behind this door there was a set of wooden steps leading down into a pitch dark room.  

  Once they were both standing down on the ground Wuan switched the lights on and that was when Freddy saw it: Wuan's workshop.  

  Now this was where the REAL business went on, by the look of things.

  There were empty glass bottles on shelves and heaps of old labels stacked up in little bundles on the floor.

  'I melt the wax here in this container, nothing special, I just warm the wax up over the stove.  But these seals here are what really matter when it comes down to the serious business of things.  Now Freddy pick up and hand me one of those labels.  That's it!  Now look at this.  This is French, Alsace, see that signature there below the print of the bottles name?  It's fake.  The label is merely a copy.  I soak the labels in tea water and leave them to dry out like this in open.  Gives them an aged look.  Here is a bottle that is already labelled.  Looks authentic, doesn't it?  I seal the bottle with wax and nobody will know the difference between an original and a fake.'

  'Wait a second Wuan!  What is all this? Is this your money making plan to have us seal glass bottles?' said Freddy.

  Freddy was alarmed by what he saw.  The basement looked like a madman's laboratory!  O NO!  Had Freddy fallen foul of another crazy person?  It certainly looked to be that way!

  'Yes, Freddy, that is what we are doing.  But the bottles need to be filled first before I sell them.  And that is where YOU come in,' said Wuan, ominously.  

  'I cannot see where I can be a help in any of this,' Freddy replied.

  'O you will be a Great help.  You are the KEY to my enterprise.  I see the startled expression on your face!  Please calm down and allow me to explain myself,' said Wuan peacefully.  'I need to fill these bottles with G-Juice.  And then I will add colouring to make the liquor appear green instead of gold.  A G-Juice that is the colour green is considered one of the original productions from the 90s.  There were only ever nine hundred of them produced allegedly.  Green juice sells for thousands at an auction.  Are you starting to see what I am trying to do here?  I have the bottles and I have the labels, I just need the juice.  Unfortunately I do not own my own distillery but your friends the Kings do.  And that is where you figure in on things, my dear Freddy.  This is what you need to do to make this enterprise a success: You must steal the King's G-Juice and bring it to me anyway possible!  Ah!  And there I see that look of dread in your expression but please be at ease my dear Freddy.  The operation will be easier than you think.'

  'I cannot see how?' said Freddy nervously.  'You want me to steal from the most powerful family in town, a people who are actually my friends.  That sounds pretty bad to me!'

  Freddy wanted to pull out...

  But sadly here was too deep in...

  And of course he needed the money!

  'Calm down Freddy!  Stop looking like you are standing in front of a firing squadron!  The task I have for you is simple,' said Wuan, and then he explained his plan in full.

  This was it:
  'Tonight the Kings are holding a party with some of their Italian American friends from New York.  You will be there as well.  You will remain sober for the whole night but feign that you are drunk so that they will not suspect you of anything nefarious (nefarious? - Freddy thought.  What did he mean by that?).  They will be drinking G-Juice of course of the golden variety.  When everyone is asleep you are to collect and drain all of the half empty cups and glasses into my bottles, and return them to me!  I will do the rest.'

  'I am vexed, Wuan.  SO you just want me to collect dregs?'

  'Yes.  And any unopened battles.  Bring them back to me.'

  'And then what?'

  'Then your job is done.  The rest will be my problem.'

  'I am still very nervous about this Wuan.  Please tell me more.'

  'Once you bring the bottles to me I will dye them green and label them as originals and sell them at auction or at G-Juice meetings.  I know my bottles will sell well for many thousands of pounds.  Passionate collectors will want to own a bottle of green.  But better than a bottle of green is a bottle of purple.  I sold a purple once for ten thousand.  Purple G-Juice is the most coveted of all.'

  'What do you use for colouring?'

  'Apple juice for the green and Ribena for the purple.'

  'You dilute the drink with Ribena and you have never been caught?'

  'Never.  Never and not once not ever.'

  'This is mad!'

  'And highly profitable,' Wuan replied confidently.  'I Know it works I have done it before.  'This is not my first venture into the fake G-Juice trade.  My original supplier disappeared...sadly...somewhere.  You are there replacement!  I know there is a lot of money to be made in this business.  A bottle of white will sell for twenty, a bottle of gold fifty, but a green anywhere from three thousand to five.  And a purple, well the skies the limit!'

  'This all sounds just all too good...'

  'Because it is,' Wuan replied with a hint of smugness.

  'Okay Wuan.  I have had a little think and I say I can do this for sure!  Leave it to me.  I will smuggle myself in with the Kings and their party tonight, it should not be too difficult for me to do that, and I will fill your bottles up!' said Freddy cheerily.  'But before we begin can I ask yet another question and you do not have to answer it but I would like to know how long have you been in this fake G-Juice business?'

  'It is a lives work,' Wuan replied proudly.  'My family in Singapore own a winery, and several wine shops.  They are financing this operation and producing the the fake labels for me.  It is my job just to make the labels look old and I find tea water works very well for such an operation.  You can say I am part of a global conspiracy if you will!'  Wuan chuckled slightly after he said that, before proceeding with his speech.  This is what he said next:

  'My family have been passionate about G-Juice for decades now.  My grandfather bought and still owns one of the original bottles from 1991.  Nobody in my family could bring themselves to drink it.  The bottle is surrounded by mystery.  There is a story behind it preposing that its contents contains the original recipe conceived by the mad genius who first perfected the juice, the remarkable and little well known scientist Ivan Gustav.  Whether the story is true or not it matters little because people believe the story when we tell it to them and the bottle is currently priced at the fine sum of five hundred thousand.  But we will never sell it.  Why would we do such a thing?  Sell a piece of history?  Would you sell the Monalisa if you owned it?  Of course you would not!  Such treasures are few and far between, and should be contained and possessed with a fury!'

  Freddy listened to those words and was thinking slyly to himself, "Damn if I had the original Monalisa I would sell it right away!" but instead he decided to respond with these few and very carefully picked words, 'Yes.  You are right Wuan.  History is priceless.'

  'You are a very intelligent man Freddy,' Wuan replied.  'I am glad to know you!  We are going to be very good business partners together!  I wish we could celebrate our collaboration with a glass of La muerte de la Lengua.'

  WHAT WAS THAT?!?!

  'It is a very fine drink whose main ingredient includes the liver of the Greenland Shark in purée form.  Once ready connoisseurs lase the drink with deadly flowers, belladonna and the like anything of the Brugmansia genus!  You need to drink around the flowers lest you wish to die!  It is the perfect drink for a man who wants to end his days!'

  'Sounds wonderful,' said Freddy.

  'Yes!  It is the best drink of them all.  It is like the jellyfish beautiful BUT deadly.'

  'Ah well!  We better get on with business then!'

  'And indeed we shall!  The party is tonight.  Let us do this and do it well.'

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

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It Happens At Night 17: Dreams, Graves And Money...

It was time for Freddy to do some begging.

  Freddy was broke to the brim.

  The wars were over and there was nobody left to burry so Freddy was not in a position to rely on the burial business at the moment for an income - and even if there was a full-blown war in motion it was going to take a lot of bodies to fill his coffers up to the fine tune of 35G's...

  So what were Freddy's options?

  He knew he was shooting for the stars but he decided to start with his uncle...

  Maybe the decrepit old spider had a pot of cash hidden away in his rickety home somewhere...  Freddy had worked with the man for years but Uncle Lucien was still a grave mystery to him (no pun intended!!!!!!!!!).  Lucien had been digging up graves long before Freddy's mother had cranked Freddy out screaming into the wide and wicked rotten vile beastly dreadful disgusting world.

  Maybe the old crooked and corrupt man had a treasure or two stowed away from all his years of playing about with the dead?

  It was worth asking him anyway.

  So one day Freddy plucked up the courage to ask his uncle about his personal finances.

  'I don't spend money on anything Freddy because I do not have any money,' his uncle replied.  'These clothes I am dressed in right now?  Want to know where I came by them?  They were used to dress a dead man I dug up twelve years ago.  I thought he wore nice clothes.  I knew the man before he died and I knew that he was sick.  So I waited for him to die and then I dug him up and took what I needed.'

  'Why are you telling me this?' said Freddy.

  'Well isn't it obvious?  I don't have money.  NO money stored away.  NO bank account.  NO credit cards.  NO online thingamajigs.  NO MONEY!  I don't store money,' said Lucien.  'If I want something I simply steal it.  Stealing has always been my way.  The world stole from me once something very precious to my heart...  SO I don't mind stealing back from the world - I will give the world back in kind what the world gave to me.  I will keep on stealing until the day the world steals me back into the Earth.  And that day might happen very soon...'

  'You really are a miserable old swine!'

  'Yes.  I am.  And it has taken you this long, over how many ears we have known each other to realise this reality?  Tut tut!  You are quit dim aren't you Jim!'

  'Hey?'

  'Ah!  Sorry.  Freddy!  I was meant to say you are quite dim aren't you Freddy?'

  'I hope you do die soon, uncle Lucien.  You are blight on this planet!'

  'O you will get your wish soon,' Uncle Lucien replied coldly, and also with a note of jollity as well!

  'Why are you so vile?'

  'The world, Freddy!' replied the crooked and spindly old man.  'The world made me what I am.  You will be like me one day IF you manage to live that long.'

  'Thanks.  I guess that is a kind of a compliment from you?'

  'NO, Freddy.  It isn't.  But listen to this!  We need another war right now.  It is the peace that is killing you!  You need to figure out a way to get the gangs back to fighting one another again.  It is the only way.  Get another war brewing, which should be easy to do with a trick or two, and you will have bodies pouring back into the ground again and cash pouring back into your pockets!  There is a lot of money to be made from death, don't you know?'

  'You would know, wouldn't you?  You old wretch you!  You old spider!  You are a wicked man!  I have nothing more to say to you.  Goodnight!'

It was now time for Freddy to stretch a word or two of measured desperation to his other friends.

  His next stop was the Kings Residency.

  'Ah!  Wonderful to see you Frank!' said Freddy as the man himself let him inside his guest room.

  There were drinks setup and Frank was in the middle of playing a game of pool with the dreaded Mr LA Thins, leader of New York and all round American superstar.  

  Frank offered Freddy a drink but Freddy, thanking him, said no and he was here only to talk business.

  'I guess you would like to talk to me about that little co-owned funeral directing business we have got going on in the corner of town?' said Frank while chalking his cue up.

  'O no!  The funeral business is absolutely fine positively "top notch" as they say in Thailand.  No.  I am actually here to discuss a rather more personal matter...'

  'O really?  You do realise Freddy that I never take business personally?' And then Frank started chuckling.  'Look at you!  I am just joking with you!'  Frank stopped chuckling and with a friendly slap on Freddy's shoulder he continued:  'Of course Freddy!  What personal things would you like to talk about?  Is it concerning your failed marriage and recent divorce?  If it is then don't worry about it I am all ears.  We are friends Freddy and I am happy to help you out with that sort of thing.  And don't worry about Mr Thins here, he is a man of the world and the advocate of many divorces down through time and none of the break ups were related to any of his own personal marriages.  So go on, speak freely.  Tell us what is on your mind, Freddy.'

  'It has nothing to do with my divorce, well...I guess it does a little bit,' Freddy replied with a slight stammer.  Evidently the conversation was not going well.  Frank had obviously got the wrong angle on why Freddy was there but Freddy pressed on nevertheless:

  'I find myself short of cash,' and then he came straight out with it, hoping that Frank would appreciate his directness.  He told Frank he needed a loan.

  'If you had asked me the other day I would have quite gladly given you a loan. But this morning I expanded the brewery into the east quarter of the town and it has soaked up all of my finances.  Sorry about that Freddy boy.  I am sure you will be alright int he end!  You strike me as a resourceful kind of chap.'

  So Mr Frank King has expanded his vast brewery empire to make it even bigger?  HOW NICE, Freddy thought.

  So that put an end to Freddy's hopes of acquiring a loan from his good friend.

  Freddy tried the bank next.

  The business with the bank went as badly as Freddy knew it would.

  The bank staff literally laughed at him, one person saying:  'Hey mate!  You do realised the comedy theatre is situated at the end of Gloom Street, first turn on your left from the Western Road?'

  Freddy acknowledged defeat and decided to give up asking for money.

  It was obvious nobody wanted to give him any of the stuff.

  The only option that was available to him then was to waste what little money he had left and get drunk...

  Now getting drunk was the one thing Freddy had promised himself to never do again but getting drunk was the only thing that was going to help him forget about his general failure as a man, which is what he felt like he needed to do at the time.

  And so Freddy rustled his credit card out of his coat pocket and bought himself a rather fine looking bottle of the G-Juice.  It was sitting there staring at him from behind a shop window.  His name had been written on it in invisible letters: Dear Freddy - Drink Me, they read.

  DRINK ME NOW!

  Not willing to disappoint the bottle Freddy made ready to act on the message.

  One swipe of the card one click of the bottle lid one tilt of the hand and his gullet was gushing and brimming with the goodly juice.  Ah!  What a happy place it was to be, swimming in the G!

  That night while his brain was awash with the Juice, and his liver was dank with the contents of a second bottle, Freddy got a little visit from the ghost of his old friend Jim McGregor King, the war veteran who used to own the drinking house up the road from Freddy's old flat.

  Jim was so drunk that the sight of the worm ridden man did not offend him in the least, in fact he invited McGregor into his room and found him a nice chair to sit down on.  

  Freddy asked the old lad how well he was doing.

  'To be honest I am doing quite badly right now Freddy boy,' McGregor responded honestly.  'The life of a dead man is not what its cracked up to be...  I thought death was going to be like, you know, like sleep?  So I got a rather nasty and unhappy surprise when my time finally came and I found myself stuck in another dimension and surrounded by ghouls...  and other things.  Damn!  Why couldn't I get into some kind of heaven-like place?  Somewhere nice, you know what I mean?  I am a war veteran I deserve a break don't I?  But then again I did do a lot of nasty stuff back in the day.  I teamed up with the gangs, got involved with all of the fighting.  I sheltered thugs, and helped kill thugs.  I guess I do deserve what I got in the end.  This is purgatory for me Freddy and it is a miserable thing.  There is no release.  Death is somehow more unhappy than life!  But ah well here I am and all I can do is get on with it I guess.'  

  'You sound so sad McGregor!'  Freddy offered his friend a drink.

  McGregor said he would love to have a drink but then he had to explain that he was unable to drink anything anymore now that he was bereft of a solid body.  BUT:

  'There is a little trick I heave learned that does work just as well as the real thing,' said the old dead man.  'Let me put my hand inside your body and grab your liver!  When you next take a drink I can enjoy a bit of it for myself!  What I will do is absorb the alcohol into my essence!  Can we do that?'

  It looked like McGregor's hand was made of vapour.  With Freddy's reluctant permission McGregor slotted his hand into Freddy's liver, and when Freddy took down his next slug of booze McGregor sighed with joy!  McGregor could taste the G-Juice!  'That tasted so good Freddy boy!' said the hungry ghost.

  'So what do you do now that you are dead?' said Freddy to his old dead friend.

  'Pretty much the same thing I used to do when I was alive - wander around - get lost, that kind of thing.  People still ignore me wherever I go.  But at least nowadays it makes sense because nobody can see me!'

  'Sounds like a bad business,' Freddy replied.  'Here McGregor I will take another drink just for you!  Just keep hold of that old liver of mine!'

  'Thank you Freddy!'  The ghost sighed again and afterwards continued to waffle on.  He was boring to listen to, as always, it was always McGregors way to ramble about silly things, but Freddy was still glad of the company and happy to listen to the old Scotch and his random prattlings.

  'My son won't speak to me,' said McGregor.  'But then he never used to even when I was alive.  He is still playing that weird video game, what's it called again?  The Silly Hedgehog Brothers?  I never understood the darn appeal of those video games.  But my son plays them all day.  He never leaves his bedroom.  You know he didn't even leave his room to visit me at my funeral?  Let me tell you something Freddy and this is true, I am fully ashamed of my son.  You know it is because of me he is alive?  And it is because of him that I am dead.  You know my pub burned down?  That upset me when I saw that.  Without my pub I am nothing.  In a strange sort of way I am glad to be dead.  I have nothing to live for.  Drifting about in liminal space seems to make more sense than living.  Living is a waste of time.  I mean we are all going to end up in purgatory one day so we might as well stop wasting time trying to live and get to the place right away and be done with it.'  

  'I am sorry to hear that,' said Freddy.  'You are one of the few people in this town who has absorbed more bad luck than me.  I don't think there is no cheering ourselves up right now!  G-Juice has a trick of cheering up most lost wanderers of the world, but when the wanderer gets too lost then sometimes not even the Juice has the way of leading the way.'

  'Ah!  You are right, Freddy, it is a sad thing,' replied the ghost wearily.

  McGregor and Freddy decided it was time to get some fresh air and took a walk in the streets.

  They stopped together eventually at the turning that led away from Blight Court Road.  There was a copse of pine trees lurking nearby and beyond that a stretch of grassy land.  On that land was built the old Church of Fenwick.  Beyond the Church was a field and standing in the field was a lonely old shed.

  'I wonder who lives in that old rickety shed yonder?' said McGregor wonderingly.

  'An old rickety man who just so happens to be my uncle, unfortunately,' Freddy replied darkly.  'He is a miserable so and so to say the least.  He courts misery like a pig in mud.  He absolutely beats us in that department Mr McGregor!'

  'Your uncle, hey?  O yes old Lucien.  I remember.  He should be careful leaving so close to the Church like that,' said McGregor.  Those fields over there are haunted by the spirit of a lady dressed in black.  She is said to visit you in the night and steal your soul.  It is a true story Freddy.  Very true.  I know it now I am dead.  Now I am dead there are a lot and a lot of things I know that I didn't know when I had the flow of blood in me.  I am more educated in death than I ever was when I was breathing!  I don't want to scare you Freddy but I probably will when I tell you this next thing:  There are monsters out there, Freddy.  Real monsters - alien entities and other nasty things beyond that...'

  'O I can believe it,' Freddy replied and he wasn't joking.

  'There was this author back in the day, C.S Lewis he was called and he used to right all these mad littles stories about cosmic horrors from beyond the abyss.  He wrote about this monster that lived out in the oceans he called it Kassylulu...?'

  'NO, McGregor.  That is H.P Lovecraft you are actually talking about there.  And the monster was called Cthulhu.  I know, I have read one or two of his stories over the years,' said Freddy.

  'Ah!  That is it!  Lovecraft!  That's the man I am talking about.  Well let me tell you something now, Freddy boy, all those strange dark littles stories he wrote all of them were true!  Those monsters are really out there.  I have seen them.  There is this one called Shoggoth.  This thing is like a green pulsating mass of tentacles.  It's real, I have seen it!  And I have seen it tonight hovering around the place where you live, Freddy.  You need to be careful, my boy.  I think the thing is after you!  Watch what you do.  Be careful about what you drink and how much you drink.  There is a reason why the thing is there.  Don't be dragged into purgatory, Freddy.  Take it from a lost soul who is actually stuck in it right now it is not a pleasant place!'

  Freddy woke up the next day lying on the local park bench holding an empty bottle.

  He had blacked out.

  Lucky because of the goodness of the G-Juice he wasn't hungover at all, but he was feeling embarrassed about the empty bottle and tried at once to hide the thing.

  It was while he was carrying out this shameful act that a figure approached him.

  'I have just returned from an interesting meeting with Mr LA Thins.  He tells me that you are having money problems, Freddy?  If that is true then listen to me.  I am the man who can help you!  A few days ago I made you an offer of making money.  That offer is very much still open.  All you need to do is accept it.'

  It was Wuan.

  Freddy had not seen him in a while but he remembered the strange little man who worked in the gas station very well.

  'Alright, you are right.  I have got money problems.  BIG money problems.  If you think you can help me then fine I accept your offer!' Freddy replied holding his hand out.

  Wuan shook Freddy's hand.  'Your worries are over now Freddy,' Wuan said.  'I know I can help you,'  and then Wuan continued speaking in a monotone computer-like voice.  'Follow me and we will do business together and make lots and lots of money...'

(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

The flight of sparrows!

The flight of sparrows...

Beauty is born out of darkness, and in beauty darkness sleeps...

And there are born the dreams of those who are not yet alive, kindling in the dews, the light and the blossoms, waiting for the first breath to take them up and then with them dance.  Here then is the thread, the paint, the ink, the letters from what life will weave, in time, their story will be ready for the writing.

You look at it.  It does not look at you, instead it speaks saying:  'We live in a world that is formed into and out of many layers - and in between the gaps, hidden between the lines of the the veil, the eyes of various nations are watching.'

For there is in all things that bow and flicker, where the sun does linger (and bows its thoughts,) the heaviness and weight of the human heart, and the flight of sparrows that do spring from it, anon into dreams, where the flight of all souls rest and dream.

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It Happens At Night 16: A Message From The Beyond... And Then Another!

The biggest and best problem with drinking G-Juice is that it delivered the goods, it got you real nice and drunk (possibly lozy!) AND you never got a whiff of a hangover the next day.  And that was the best bit about the problem, you just never knew when to stop drinking the stuff!  And that evening Freddy drank a lot of it...

  A lot a lot of a lot of a lot....

  I can write this now in the name of Freddy's defeated braincells he drank WAY TOO MUCH of the G-Juice - far too much for a natural human being to endure even one accustomed to a regular lozy session or two...

  An overdose of G-Juice - my gosh!  When this happens it is not a good place to be, even without the horrors of the hangover...  there is a price to pay for every droplet of joy drank - and nightmares to face when the days end drew nigh.

  Freddy had three false awakenings in his bedroom the next morning.

  And there was more!

  He had a whole conversation with his Dad, a man who had passed six years ago, wrote poetry with birds and invited Mr Badger round for a cup of tea.  And there was a tree suddenly growing in his living room that grew golden apples and it bloomed ALL day long!

  That was the nice part of the aftermath of his G-Juice bonanza...

  Now let us get to the bad bits...

  After the tree withered and disappeared into a beating heart Freddy was chased around the living room by a man with the head of a pig.

  He was also attacked by a giant wolfhound with red eyes.

  And there was a dragon in the backyard, apparently...

  Freddy decided after a while it would be for the best for him to go back to bed and sleep off the nasty aftereffects of his drinking binge. 

  There was a man in a dark suite standing in the corner of his bedroom.

  'You need to stop drinking that stuff, Freddy.  You know what I mean?' he said.  

  'Get out of my room or I will call the police!' said Freddy angrily.

  'The police won't help you.'

  'I know!  They never do.'

  'I am being serious,' said the man in the dark suite.  'You are not in your bedroom right now Freddy.  It might look like you are, but really you aren't.  We are in the astral plain right now.  Tomorrow you will wake up back in the physical world.  You will get a second chance to live out your 'normal' life.  You don't understand the dreaded power of the G-Juice.  Perhaps you do know - if only a little bit!  Drink deeply and badly like that again and you will be staying with us in the astral plain for an eternity or two.  You have been warned, Freddy boy.  Watch your drinking!  Now go back to bed and sleep.  You will have more nightmares, but at least you will know what to do to safeguard yourself from us in the future.  We entities from the plain of the beyond are not fools to be fooled with.'

  The man in the black suit vanished, and Freddy woke up in his bed for real.

Bolly's solicitor turned up the next day.

  Bolly wanted a quick divorce, a very quick divorce indeed stating that she could not stay married to so a weak man as Freddy for a single day longer.

  The papers were all set and ready for Freddy to sign and the two year marriage would be done and dusted.

  Freddy was sad about the business.  But he knew in his heart it was for the best to end the relationship.  All Freddy wanted out of life was to make Bolly happy, and he knew a divorce was the way to her heart.  If she wanted a quick (hasty rather!) end to the marriage then that was what she was going to get.  She also wanted Freddy's old flat as well and insisted he post her the keys to it.

  Well, what Bolly wants Bolly gets, and Freddy willingly signed the papers and posted his former wife the keys.  

  Freddy was officially single.

  The funny thing was that being single felt absolutely no different from being married.

  O my how miserable he felt!

  Freddy felt like a mop that had been dunked in a puddle of dank and very dirty water and then dragged across the floor.  He felt bad.

  Ordinarily on such an occasion Freddy would of had a drink of something strong, but after surviving the nightmares of the previous night he decided not to do that but instead spent the rest of the day depressed watching rubbish on television.

  "Well it's not that bad," he tried to cope.  "At least I have got my own business, a decent income, and I have some good friends looking out for me."

  There was one big thing Freddy never learned in his lifetime and that was to never test the universe!  NEVER DO THAT!  Whenever you relax and start to feel good about something that is when the universe will decide it has another trick up its sleeve to bring you down...  And that is exactly what happened the next day - the universe had another trick to play!

  Freddy decided to go for a walk the next morning and that was when two good sized lads jumped him from a street corner.  Placing a bag over his head they dragged him into the boot of a car and drove him away...  somewhere...

  "Abducting twice in one week!  That must surely be a record somewhere," thought Freddy as he was being driven along.

  Finally the car stopped and Freddy was scooped out of the vehicle and carried outside.  After that he was carried for quite a long time.  He heard a door being closed.  

  Now he was in a building, he could tell the winds had fallen quiet.

  But it was still very cold...

  Finally his captors decided to unmask him, and when Freddy opened his eyes he beheld a sight that made him wish he was no longer alive!

  For sitting behind a desk on the opposite side of the room was a familiar and very dreadful face - it was nonother than Corta Boa Almoço!  Except he was fatter... and had a beard and longer hair and hang on!  How does that work?  How does a dead and buried man put on weight and grow a new hairstyle?  Something was definitely amiss for sure, and Freddy, at the point of having a complete shutdown, or a heart attack if you prefer, just didn't know what to make of it.  

  What was happening?

  This was pure unfiltered madness!

  Was Freddy still trapped inside that horrible G-Juice fuelled fever dream?

  Nothing made sense not until the man explained that he was Corta's brother, Tonto Almoço!

  Freddy was handcuffed to a metal chair and at gunpoint ordered to talk!

  Freddy asked what his captors wanted him to talk about - he was so confused at that moment in his life.

  Confused and terrified of course!

  'Tell me everything!' said Tonto.

  'Everything about what?' said Freddy.

  'The business that went on between you and my beloved brother Corta,' said Tonto.

  'There was no business between us!'

  'You were seen talking together many times,' Tonto replied.

  'That was just casual chitchat between one man and another...  Honestly!  I didn't really know your brother not at all!'

  'But I heard that he had a full-blown affair with your wife?'

  'O that!  Bolly and I are recently (about eight hours ago precise) divorced.  It is an old affair and quite forgotten about I assure you!'

  'My brother has disappeared.  Nobody can find him!'

  'Really?  Disappeared you say?  Well that is sad to hear.  Poor Corta!  He was such a …  well he was such a lovely man.  Salt of the earth.  I hope you find him one day alive and well!'

  Freddy was being badly pressed and he was running out of lies.  He was growing deeply desperate.  It was out of pure desperation that he made this next silly and very sloppy speech:

  'Please listen to me Mr Tonto... sir!  Please!  I beg you!  I am a nice guy.  I am not involved with the gangs.  I am just a really good man.  I don't know what happened to your brother I really don't!  Please don't hurt me!'

  'I am actually not interested in what happened to my brother,' said Tonto.

  'Not interested?  O!  O that is wonderful!  Thank goodness for that!  So why am I here all chained up to this chair like this?  Forgive me for feeling somewhat confused and very frightened.  Maybe you have confused me for another man?'

  'There has been no confusion,' said Tonto grimly.

  Freddy's spirits continued to sink even further into the depths of his feet.  

  What was this madness all about then?

  Tonto was about to explain:

  'Since my brother went missing I have taken over the business,' he said.  'I have spent all morning looking through the papers.  There is a lot that has been said about you Freddy.'

  'O dear,' Freddy replied nervously.  'I bet it is all good stuff, right?'

  'I am not interested in your personal affairs with my brother.  But I am interested in your debt.'

  'It is really not that interesting,' Freddy replied.  
  'O it is very interesting...  and gaining in interest every day!  You see my brother bought your debt, and  now it is my job to manage that debt.  So you owe me, let me see how much it is right now...  O here we are!' said Tonto thumbing the papers, 'you owe me thirty five thousand pounds.'

  ???????

  WHAT?

  'Is this a joke?' Freddy cried.

  'If it were a joke you wouldn't be wearing handcuffs right now,' said Tonto coldly.  'You can keep the cuffs if you like.  You can stay strapped to the chair until you rot as well.  But I suggest you just pay your debt instead.'

  'You know what I am going to say next, right?  I just don't have that sort of money on me...'

  'Then you need to find a way to see about finding that sort of money, Freddy.  I will give you three weeks and then I am sending my boys over to collect!'

  'Three weeks?  I was thinking more like three years!'

  'Three weeks Freddy.  That is how much time I am giving you.  If I see no bills sitting on my table then we will meet again just like this, cuffs and all.  And maybe a chainsaw...  Or a led pipe.  Depends on my mood.  Now get lost and find my money!  And as you are going about your business you can tell your friends The Kings that the war is far from over.  Tonto is in charge of things now.  The Brazilians are back and we will not stop not until we have had revenge for the past outrages levied against us!'

  Freddy was uncuffed, put back in the car and driven out somewhere. Eventually the car stopped and Freddy was dropped out on the side of the road.  It took Freddy hours to walk back home again.

  And as he walked he thought:

  "Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire!  How do I keep wandering from one mess into another.  Maybe I should go back to the UK... no... my debtors will be waiting for me there as well.  But how am I going to raise thirty... what was it again?  THIRTY FIVE GRAND!?"

  There was no feasible way he could get such business done. No bank on planet Earth would lend him such a ridiculous sum.  

  But Freddy did have one remaining resource.  He had friends - powerful friends.  Good allies.

  Maybe they could somehow help him...  Lend him a loan...

  Maybe.

  MAYBE.  

  "Come on Universe!  You owe me a break!"

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

Previous part here

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I would like to talk about The Master of Kings

 Finally finished the Master of Kings.

  (I might change the name as I believe there is another book out there with a similar name - typical!)

  But there is still a lot of work left ahead editing it.  Writing The End at the end of the story is just the end of the story and the beginning of a lot of messing about, placing and replacing words.  I predict the work to be finished sometime late next year and then I can finally consider having the book put to print.

  It turned out to be quite a long book the longest ever written by me standing at well over a thousand pages.  When everything is wrapped up I expect to hold a very thick book in my hands.

The Master of Kings is a continuation of the adventures of Rudwin who led the way in my old book, The Legend of Rudwin, or as the book is known in other places, The Way of the Road.

Best wishes and GOOD LUCK OUT THERE.

Sww

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My Poems AGAIN !

  

I just thought I would post another link to my poems as the old one is vanishing under the weight of all the new posts:

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/6181560144667464310/2843769968222531142

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It Happens At Night 15: Loose Ends...

Freddy didn't receive any news about the raid until a day later, that was when Vincent King wheeled himself into the office.

  'How's business,' said the wheelchair bound man.

  'Dead,' Freddy replied drolly.

  'We might be sending some work your way soon,' said Vincent, smugly.  'The war is going really well for  us!  Too well in fact.  It won't be long now until The King and the New Yorkers own Fenwick one and whole.  You have heard about the raid of course?'

  'No?  Why?  What happened?'

  'The Brazilians sent a whole army over to our distillery to burn it down,' said Vincent.  'Well during the raid some fine and fair soul out there probably in on the business ratted them out to the police!  The police swooped in and netted the WHOLE lot of them!  Except one...'

  EXCEPT ONE?????   OKAY...

  It was time for Freddy to buckle up and prepare his ears probably for some VERY bad news.

  'Do we know who escaped?' said Freddy.

  'Yes. Unfortunately it was their boss, Corta Almoço.'

  BRILLIANT!  FANTASTIC!  MARVELLOUS!

  "The wonders of the Police Force!" Freddy was thinking.  "What would regular people in the streets ever do without them?  I just handed them the perfect opportunity to net the Brazilian Gang in one go ending nearly all  of the troubles in town and they allow the most dangerous man IN THE WORLD to escape!"

  Freddy was angry and rightly so.

  He was also very scared as well...

  And he had a good right to feel that way as well!

  'Do we know anything about Corta?' said Freddy cautiously.  

  'All that we know is that he is on the warpath and looking for blood!'

  MARVELLOUS!

  The situation could not have worked out more badly not even if Freddy had strategically planned it to be so.

  When Freddy returned to his flat he found a letter waiting for him pinned to the front door of his funeral planning business.

  The message read in bold and clear words:

  YOUR FAMILY IS IN DANGER!

  Freddy could only think of one thing.

  Corta was going to go after Bolly!
  Freddy had to be brave, and bravery was not a quality that came naturally to him not ever.  But now the time had com e for him to step up and step out and face his enemy.

  Grabbing a nearby shovel as a defence weapon - his business had plenty of the things lying around - he rushed over to Bolly's place expecting to find the worst.

  All the signs were there...

  The front door was unlocked.  

  Inside there was a mess, trashed furniture, visible signs of a very violent encounter.

  Things were looking very bad so far very bad indeed...

  And then somehow the universe took it upon itself to make the situation even more terrible - for there lying on the floor and covered in his own blood was the dead body of Corta Almoço with Bolly stand over him with a bread knife in her hands!

  Freddy was so shocked and horrified by what the saw that he could find no words to speak, at least not right away.  His feeble brain required time to process the madness of the situation.

  So Bolly spoke first:

  'I had to kill him!' she said.

  'Bloody hell Bolly what have you done!' said Freddy scratching his head and looking around frantically as if hoping some door might open up to lead him into another dimension where everything was safe and wonderful and things worked out for the best.

  That door did not open, sadly for Freddy.

  'He disrespected me,' Bolly continued speaking in an angry voice.  'He called me a cheater!  He said I was sleeping with his brother.  I had to stab him Freddy.  It was the only way.'

  'Okay, let's try not to panic here,' said Freddy.  'I think there is a way that we can deal with this.  We have just got to get rid of the body that's all.  The man was a murderer and a monster no one will miss him.  Wait one moment, Bolly.  I am going to phone my uncle and ask him to come over.  He is a grave digger and understandably very handing with this kind of thing.  He will help us out!'

 Uncle Lucien finally turned up and when he saw the dead body he shook his head and looked like he was ready to turn around and walk back out again.

  'Whatever this is I am not getting involved,' he said glumly.

  'I need your help!'

  'I am going to guess you need help burying this here stiff, right?  Well you can forget it.  I am not going to help you to do this.'

  'Don't be stupid!  Burying bodies is our trade!  Digging them up and putting them down - we have been doing it for years.  What's the difference now?'

  'The bodies that we bury have usually been dead a few days.  This one here is looking very fresh,' Lucien replied.  'I am going to guess that right now we are looking at a crime scene?  If that is the case then, as it very much appears to be, I don't want to get involved!'

  'I need your help, uncle.  We need to get this body out of here!  If we don't then Bolly is going to end up going to prison.'

  'Rather her than me.'

  'Please.  Lucien!  I have never asked a lot from you over the years.  But if there was ever a time in life I needed you to help me it is now.  Please!  We are family.'

  Uncle Lucien stuck to his guns as it were and said 'No.'

  'You were always a wicked self-serving cold hearted bastard!' Freddy returned angrily.

  Uncle Lucien shrugged his shoulders and replied saying, 'Why are you have a crack at me for?  Your crazy wife killed the man not me.  I am too old to go to prison.  This is your mess so you clean it up.  Beside you know me, I can't bend my back to save my life.  So how do you expect me to help you carry a corpse about?'

  'We have done it before.  When we dug up that body for the Kings and carried it around in public.  It was as heavy as heck!  But we still did it.  We can do this now.'

  'Maybe we could.  Maybe we couldn't.  I don't want to know either way.  I am too old for this kind of nonsense, Freddy boy.  I just want to make money and live out my last few days of life in peace.'

  And with that good old Uncle Lucien left the scene.

  Right.  That was no good.  Freddy had to think up another plan...

  He decided to take a risk and phone the Kings.

  He had to do it.  He needed help to shift the body and Freddy was totally out of options now Lucien had graciously chose to abandon him in his hour of need.

  Frank King turned up half an hour later and witnessed the same scene as everyone else who had been inside the flat that morning, a dead Corta stretched out on the floor covered in his own blood and Bolly standing there with the bloody knife in her bloody hands.

  'Now this looks bad,' was the first thing Frank said when he saw the corpse.

  'It is beyond bad,' Freddy replied.  'We have to get rid of this damn body!  I don't want Bolly to go to prison.  I love her too much!  I have to help her.  She is my wife.'

  'Fine!  I will help,' Frank replied calmly.  'We will keep our operation (operation?????) low key.  We won't involve New York.  If they find out what's been going on they will be the first to go in guns blazing!  If that was to happen there is a real good chance they might mistake Bolly for a violent lunatic and she might be put down by a bullet or two...'

  'Put down?  That is my wife you are talking about!'

  'Sorry Freddy.  Poor choice of language there.  I never did well in English at school.  What I mean to say is that if the Italians turn up and see all this mess, a dead body, blood everywhere and a crazy looking lady armed with a knife and covered in gore they might just think she is...  you know... a psychopath and decide to shoot her to protect their own lives.  So we can't have that.  So this is what we are going to do.  I am going to call in a man I know.  He works for my solicitor Dick Saggers.  He will get Bolly out of here and take her somewhere safe.  After that he will tidy up all the bloody mess.  All that we have to do for now is get rid of the body.'

  'I know the perfect place to put it...' said Freddy slyly.

  It was time to take a trip down to the park!

  Corta had dug the hole in the park to put Freddy in, and now Freddy was going to put the monster in instead.  O what irony! 

  Freddy and Frank heaved the dead Brazilian warlord into the hole and covered him up in mud.  Finally the terror was over.

  'The world is a better place after today,' said Frank wiping his sweaty brow with a handkerchief.  'And we have your precious and beautiful Bolly to thank for it.  You have married a good woman there, Freddy.'

  Freddy thanked his friend for his kind words.

  'Now that Corta is finally dead what does that mean for business?' said Freddy.  'I mean this is a momentous occasion.  This dreadful man was our main enemy, Frank.  He was at the heart of the war!'

  'I will tell you what it means,' Frank replied coolly.  'It means that we have finally achieved peace!  This truly is the end of the fighting.  The Brazilians are all in jail.  The Irish are broken up.  It's over Freddy.  The fighting is done.  And we have won.  The day is ours.  Now we control Fenwick.  The whole town is ours!'

  'I need to tell you something Frank.  Something serious.'

  'Go ahead, Freddy.  My ears are yours.  After what we have just done today nothing else in the world could shock me!'

  'I was the one who called the police on the Brazilians.  Corta kidnapped me the other day.  Made all kinds of threats against my life.  He told me he was going to attack the distillery.  I knew what he was going to do!  That is why I made the call!'

  'You mean to say you set him up?'

  'Yes.  Sort of...Kind of sort of yes I did I guess.'

  'Bloody hell Freddy!  My man!  Let me shake your hand!  You are a hero!  You saved my empire and destroyed my enemy!  I want forget this, Freddy.  I am going to look after you.  You will find yourself a guest in my home anytime!  In fact I insist you return with me to my place and we toast the day.  I have a glass of G-Juice to put your way if you are interested?'

  'I am more than interested thank you Frank,' Freddy replied soberly.  'I need the Juice.  I am shook!  Look at me!  I am literally shaking!'

  'War will do that to you Freddy,' Frank replied drolly.  'Now let us be away from this horrid place and give our livers the chance to do battle with the Juice!'

  The two men spat in unison on the shallow grave and returned home to enjoy that drink.

  

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

Previous part here

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The warbler in the reeds

The warbler in the reeds:

Life is like the warbler in the reeds.  It's in the reeds, hiding low - you don't see it until it has taken flight, then it is on wings and has flown far far away, seen no more.  The clouds remain.  The water by the reeds is still there, but the warbler and its wings beat no more under the light of the sun.  

It might as well never have been there at all - for the clouds, the reeds and the water care not for its passing.

Youth is like a fine fruit that rots in a heartbeat.  It's gone before you know it.  Very few extract the whole goodness out of that fruit, most miss even the rot of it.  And as new wings fly in with new things to bring, all you will have is the memory of your reflection mirrored in waters that flowed long ago.

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

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TIME

There was a strange light in them, and a strange light in us. You could not see it, the glow, the thing that shimmered, nay - but you could feel it in the heart and in the soul...

Waste time... ...Or... Don't waste time? My question: What is time? I don't prescribe to either so I say: "Goodbye time!"

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

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The Hat & The Scarf & the Fake Pianist

You cannot imagine a happier few than those two, who lived at number two, the Hat, the Scarf, they would welcome you inside with a: "God Bless You!" or two.  You would never find a happier pair than those two.  It's such a shame they had to live with a clot.  A sot.  A jot!  A man of three and fifty but with the mindset of a tot, he thought he as the lot!  It was time to teach him a lesson or two!

  He moved by the windows and the stairs; a villain, a cheater, a maestro without airs!  

  What was he up to that day?  The Scarf asked the Hat.

  It was a curious thing, but an honest question which needed answering.

  He was holding the orb of souls!  He bought it without gold!  

  And with it he would sing and with the piano ring, songs, into the the world he DID NOT BRING!  O what a  naughty thing, to sing a ring a ding ding!  When the song is not your thing to sing!  

  Time to teach this man a lesson or two, said the two waiting by the chair - o what a pair!  

  The thief donned his Scarf and his Hat and set out onto the cobbles, kicking over the bottles as he made his way through.

  

This man is through!

So the Scarf tightened up, and the Hat came down, and it was not long before the thief fell down!  Night for the skies and night for him!  O indeed he was a bit dim to steal the orb of souls!

  'That it will teach him to steal the orb of souls!' said the family of voles.  'Now the bell tolls for the man without goals!  O that will teach him to steal the souls!'

  The Scarf and the Hat now had quite the audience growing and it made them both feel very warm and happy!

  'What a fine show!' said the crow.  'Bestow a gift with thy beak?  A song?  O well!  A song to sail with the toll of the bell, a song for thee will do just so well!'

  'O what dears!' said the deer.  'What joy you bring!  By jove!  I shall tell my doe!  You taught the crow to sing!"

  Ding a ling ting!  

  And they danced the rest of the night through!  

Ring a Ding Ding!

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

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It Happens at Night 14: Catch Up!

It was 4PM on a Tuesday and so far Tuesday was no different from the Monday.  There was plenty of work to do.  Another burial to organise.  Another body to dig up on the sly for Mr Vincent King.  So Tuesday was a pretty ordinary day like no other, ordinary that is to a man with a silly name like Freddy Colden.  And so that is how it was - nice and quiet and ordinary.  Until 4PM kicked in that is because that was when masked men burst into Freddy's business and put a bag over his head.

  Freddy was knocked out as well.

  When Freddy woke up again the bag was off and he was lying in an empty room.  It was a bad situation.  His head hurt.  He had not a single clue as to where he was.  But on the bright side he suddenly remembered the name of the channel which showed repeat reruns of Catchphrase.

  Two gruff looking men entered the room and picked Freddy up.  Freddy offered no resistance.  Even a dimwit would have realised there was no point in fighting back - Freddy was small and weak and his captives were big and tough and scary and dreadful.  Had Freddy tried to step-up and fight back it would have easily been the end of him.  And Freddy did not want that to happen, not just yet.  Not when there was a wisp of a chance that he might find a way to escape the frightening situation he was in.

  After all:

  "If they wanted me dead then I would be dead right now, right?," Freddy thought.  And then after that Freddy thought this:

  "Or maybe they just want to torture me...  Or even worse I might already be dead and this might purgatory!  O no!"

  He would have screamed for help, but Freddy was intelligent to realise that it would not have done him any good.

  Freddy was dragged upstairs and eventually pulled into an office filled with cabinets, drinks, papers, and an expensive desk behind which was sat a large and grotesque man Freddy knew well from old:  It was Corta Almoço and leader of the Brazilian Cartel in Fenwick!  What did the madman want this time?

  The two thugs threw Freddy onto the ground as though he was some kind of an old rug.  When Freddy had been firmly stretched out over the floor the thugs kicked him a few times and then a few times more until Corta ordered them to stop.  

  Corta told Freddy to stand up.  

  'You are a lucky dog,' said the menacing cartel leader.  'I could have you killed.  And kill you still I could!  We still have that hole ready at the park to put you in!  I could take you there now.  Maybe we will, later.  Depends on what you do next.  Say what I want to hear, and I will let you live.  But if I don't like what I hear, then our lovely little relationship ends this day this hour this second.  You hear me, dog?  You ready to whimper?  I just ordered you to speak so SPEAK!'

  'I don't know what you want from me?' Freddy replied in an extremely weak voice.  'You have taken everything from me!  You have taken my wife my home and my gosh you have even taken my dignity!  You have destroyed me!  I don't understand why you are doing this to me, Corta!  There is nothing more you can do to me other than take me to that hole in the park and cover me up forever!'

  'There is a lot I can still do to you, dog,' Corta replied fiercely.  'When I took your wife and your home I was at war with the gangs and I was winning.  Good times!  I was having fun.  But now I am losing the war and the fun is running out and now you are the big man in town all of a sudden.  I don't like that.  You are still just a dog to me.  DOG!  Tell me why do the Italians like you?  They name you their brother, say you carry their blood and call you a New York made man.'

  'None of that is true,' Freddy replied nervously.  'I am not Italian I swear.  I was born in Brockworth.  I don't know anything about Italy, I have never travelled except for the odd trip to Wales, and when I met Bolly in Thailand, and when I fled the country...  SO...  I guess I have travelled quite a lot...  But I have never been to Italy once, and never ever not once to New York.  Trust me when I say this but I cannot stand that LA Thinns guy who runs the Mafia.  I hate him.  Creepy pool playing creep...  NO!  He is most definitely NOT this Englishman's cup of tea no siree!'

  'So you don't like the Italians?  That's fine.  But you like their friends the King's don't you, right?  My people say you are in bed with them every day now?'

  'Well no offence Mr Corta but your people must be drunk, that or quite imaginative to think up such utter nonsense about me and my relationship with the King's!'

  'So you admit you are having a relationship with them?'

  'No!  Not that!  Not ever!'

  'My people say they saw you leaving the King's House?'

  'Okay.  Maybe that is true.  But it does not mean that I am their friend not at all!'

  'Then why were you inside their house?'

  'I won't lie I am a very desperate man, so desperate in so many complicated ways.  Look at me I am homeless for goodness sake!  My accountancy business has failed, work has dried up.  I have no money.  The King's, well, I always got on well with Mr McGregor and he offered to put a roof over my head.  What was I supposed to say?  Was I supposed to say, "No thank you kindly, I prefer sleeping out in the rain?  You would have taken their help just as eagerly if you were in my position!'

  'I would never be in your position,' Corta replied bluntly.

  'NO. Of course not.  I was just speaking figuratively...  Hypothetically...  Or whatever the word is.'

  'I know the word you are looking for.  Traitor.  Another word that is good for you is scum,' said Corta angrily slamming his fist on the desk.  'I know you are working the Kings!'

  'No I am not I swear!'

  'Prove it!'

  'Okay.  This is what I will do.  I will grab my passport and I will go back to the UK.  And then I will be out of your way forever!'

  'But you have enemies in England?'

  'No I don't!'

  'You do.  You owe a lot of people a lot of money back across the channel.  You owe loansharks.  These are men I know and they want to get you.  They are after your blood!'

  'Okay.  You are right.  I will tell you what I will do instead.  I will go to France.'

  'You forgetting Brexit, boy?  There is no going to France not anymore not for Limeys like you!'

   'I will stay there for a tiny but, like a holiday, and I will figure something out.  I will go to Thailand!  I have got relatives there.  I am sure Bolly's sister will look after me.  The last time I saw her, which would have been Bolly and I's wedding, she could me a Facker - I think that word translated into English means  something like lovely man.'

  'And you would go away and leave everything behind?  Even that nice new funeral business you running these days?  Business doing well?  My boys tell me you have been burying a lot of my boys lately.  You are making a lot of money out of my war it seems!'

  'NO.  That is not true in the slightest.  We are not prejudice in the funeral business.  We will bury anybody, young or old.'

  'You have been burying my boys!' Corta continued angrily and he thumped the desk a second time.  

  'Okay.  We have been burying a lot of Brazilians lately.  But it's just a coincidence!  We are not selective about who we put under the ground.  My business is happy to bury people from all around the world.  We buried a man last week from Boggy Bottom.'

  'So if I let you go now you will go to Thailand, yes?'

  'Yes!'

  'What if I don't let you go?'

  'Please, Mr Corta!  What is this really about?  What do you want from me?  I am too tired and too old to keep on playing these crazy games.  It is rotting my brain it really is!  Just tell me what you want or just...  well just do that other thing you keep on threatening to do but never do.  Put me in that hole in the park...'

  '30G,' said the warlord plainly.

  'I beg your pardon?' Freddy was beyond confused.

  'You give me 30G and I let you go!'

  'I am sorry, Corta.  But I don't understand?  It was only a few days ago that I was completely homeless!  I am the worst kind of man to ask money from.'  

  'I have looked into your affairs in the UK and I know everything that you did there and I know why you are here and that is why I want money out of you,' Corta explained.  'I know all about your failed printer business.  You borrowed a lot of money from a lot of people.  And then you borrowed more money from more people, and then you met the loansharks, and then you met me.  I know your business, dog.  You are up to your neck in debt!  But what do you care?  Sitting safe here in Fenwick away from the UK.  But now your ghosts have come back to haunt you, dog.  You see your old business partners found a way to get their money back.  Me.  We did a deal together.  I bought their loans.  And as your new borrower I am the one you need to pay back.  And right now you owe me 30G.  It's time to pay up dog!'

  Freddy almost collapsed with horror.  

  The fierce Brazilian warmonger was right - Freddy's ghosts had followed him all the to Fenwick!  Now he was fully in their grasp as they reaped their total vengeance on him!

  'But I cannot pay you that kind of money, Mr Corta.  I just don't have it.  Maybe I can pay you with instalments...?'

  'Or maybe you can just be my slave,' Corta returned suddenly.  

  So that was it!

  O Corta was a menace!  The frightening man had a plan cooking inside of his head and Freddy was only tasting the first course, a spoonful of sour cold soup before the main starter was served...

  And now it was time for the main course!

  Truly Freddy felt like he had been put on a spit ready for the roast!

  'You work for me inside the King's business.  You tell me everything you know about them.  You tell me their secrets you tell me everything and I mean everything!' said Corta.  'I am going to bring that family down.  I am going to destroy their distillery, their heart!  The distillary is where they make their money.  We take their money and then we take them.  Without money the King's are nothing.  And when the King's are nothing the Italians won't want to know them and they will go back to New York.  And then Fenwick will be mine again.  You know what I am saying?  Do you understand?'

  'But if the King's find out I am working for you they will kill me clean!'

  'Of course they will.  And I will kill you to.  Maybe we can cut you up between us, like the sound of that hey?  I am sure it can be arranged.  But you know it is better to bow your head and be my slave, yes dog?'

  'Okay.  I will do it.  I will help you.'

  'Good doggie!  Now first thing is first.  I want to deal with the distillery.  I want the gates unlocked and all the cameras watching the building turned off so the Kings do not know I am on my way.  You will do that for me now.  I am going to attack the place today!  I am going to burn it down real good!'

  Freddy as not the smartest man in Fenwick, if he had been smart he would never have ended up getting involved with a vicious and terrifying cartel warlord, but he was smart enough to know that resistance against such a force as Corta was utterly and totally futile.  So he didn't bother to resist.  Instead he just wagged his head and said yes and that was it, business done.

  But the next thing Freddy did was quite unexpected.

  As soon as he got home he got onto the phone and called - of all people - THE POLICE!

  

Hello, police?  There is going to be a raid tonight outside of the King's Distillery!

And like that the trap was set...

(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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