It Happens At Night 7: Doctors Orders!

 Uncle Lucien spent the rest of that night standing around his sad old fire, it was the only source of light inside the rickety old building he chose to spend the rest of his life living in.

  Why it is dark out there!

  Uncle Lucien was doing what he liked to do, his favourite past time hobby, talking to himself.  O he loved talking to himself!  He did it all the time!

  There are odd things going on outside tonight...  Why the witching hour is truly abroad...

  He continued his pleasant conversation with himself:

  The lights are on inside that old gas station across the road...  The place has been closed down for twelve years, all boarded up and locked down.  Rotting.  But tonight the lights are on, and there is somebody standing in the window!  I think they might be looking at me...   I better move away from the window.  It might not be safe for me to be standing there, not at this dark hour with so many evil people about.

  But old Uncle Lucien couldn't help himself...

  He had another window, south facing - looking out onto his favourite place in the whole world...

  The graveyard.

  He liked looking at the place whenever he could.

  It was going to be his home one day.

  FOREVER.

  That night some strange magic was at play over the graves...

  Ah!  So she is back!  The lady in black!  She is standing over her old grave...  

  ...Lucien was back at it, talking to himself again!

  I have not seen her in weeks.  It's an omen for sure, but whether for good or for ill I will never know.  And nor do I really care which way.  Soon I will be dead and spirits and phantoms will frighten me no more.  Because I will be one with them as it should have always been!  

  Time for bed and to sleep.

  And Lucien would have actually gone to bed, if he had a bed.  But he didn't because he could not bend his legs or sit or lie down to save his life.  So instead he just leaned on the wall and nodded off into a deep fast sleep.  And his dreams were haunted by surreal imagery of the lady in black...

* * *

Freddy was feeling a little rough and shaken after his deadly encounter with Corta, and he decided that he needed professional help.

  So he booked an appointment with his local GP, the good Doctor Flaccid.  

  Flaccid was a fine man with  good temper and a keen interest in helping his patients.

  Doctor Flaccid liked to have a personal relationship with his people.

  He arranged to see Freddy the very next day, which was wonderful, because next day appointments don't happen anymore in the year 2025, and before Freddy knew it he was walking into the good Doctors personal office.

  'It is good to see you again, Freddy,' said Doctor Flaccid warmly greeting Freddy with a shake of the hand.  'We have not had you visit us in weeks!  Where have you been?  Your suit looks a little muddy!  Busy day at the office?'

  'Very busy,' Freddy replied.

  'I think the last time you paid me a visit was when you told me how wonderful my pink socks looked on my feet.  I never forget a kind word, Freddy.  You are my favourite patient.'

  'That is good to know, Doctor,' Freddy replied.

  'Now Freddy I am glad you are here because I need to ask you something rather intimate.  If you don't mind?  No?  Good.  Please take a seat Freddy.  Now I need to share something rather personal.  Would it offend you if I told you that I like to wear ladies undergarments?'

  'Well my response to that Doctor Flaccid is each to their own.  If that is what you are into then go for it.  It doesn't bother me...'

  The Doctor took a deep breath.  He was clearly relieved to hear Freddy reply in such a way, but he still had more to say.  'Thank you, Freddy.  Your words are good for my ears to hear.  Now listen.  How would you react if I told you that right now I am wearing beneath my trousers a pair of pink frilly knickers?'

  'Doctor.  I appreciate your ability to open up to me about such things, but surely shouldn't you be having a conversation like this with your wife?'

  'O good grief no, Freddy!  No never!  If my wife were to ever find out about my personal knicker wearing ways it would be the perfect excuse for her to divorce me there and then on the ground!  I couldn't cope with that!  What if she was to tell everyone about it?' said Doctor Flaccid.  'What if my secret were to ever leak onto social media?  What would my colleagues and my old university friends say?  I can hear their conversations now:  "Look at old Flaccid there!  Embarrassing middle-aged old man wearing pink knickers to work!"  My reputation would be in runs I tell you!  It would be the end of my career!'

  'Alright.  Maybe you should keep it a secret.  We don't want your wife to divorce you.  And social media is what life is all about as far as I am concerned.'

  'Thank you for understanding, Freddy.'

  'No problem doctor.  I am happy to listen to your problems.'

  'It's not a fetish, Freddy.'

  'Of course it isn't!  Why good Doctor I would never think such a thing.  You are a respectable man.  You have a good heart and you care for people.  You are not some kind of degenerate, good lord no!'

  'Do you want to know the real truth behind my knicker wearing ways?  Do you want to know the real secret to why I do what I do?'

  'No Doctor.  I think you should keep the true secret to yourself thank you very much!'

  'No Freddy!  I have to tell you and you alone, Freddy, because nobody else will understand like you do.'

  'Go on then, Doctor.  Tell me the secret...'

  It was time for Freddy to buckle up, as Doctor Flaccid told all:

  'The real reason I wear pink frilly knickers is because I care about my patients so much,' the Doctor replied gently.  'You see, Freddy, the truth is this - as a young man growing up I was always very shy and awkward around women.  It made my job as a practitioner very awkward, as you can imagine.  But when I started to wear ladies undergarments it began to help me feel more like a woman.  That feeling gives me a greater connection to my female patients it really does.  Which is very important, Freddy, especially when you have patients like Madam Bigtop and Mrs Crinkley Bottom to deal with.  Good gosh!  I tell you something, Freddy, listen up now.  I had Mrs Crinkley Bottom in the other day for a - gulp - check up.  Good lord!  Her backside would make an African Bull Elephant blush.  Good grief!  The sight of it would horrify even the most hardened Vietnam War veteran.  But because I was wearing ladies underwear that day it helped me to stand my ground and do my job.'

  'Well, Doctor, I must say you are a true professional,' Freddy replied thoughtfully.  

  'Yes indeed and I also respect my patients as well.  But bless my soul look at the time!' said the good Doctor examining his watch.  'Good grief!' he exclaimed.  'I have another appointment to attend.  You better be heading off home now Freddy.  It was wonderful talking to you.'

  And with that Freddy was out of the door and making his way back home again.

* * *

Back in the bar Mr McGregor had his hands full with a couple of very tough customers...

  Several members of the Irish Gang with their bowler hats and their beating sticks had moved in and taken over.  They were demanding Irish Whiskey on the house, and threatened to smash the place up if they didn't get it.  So McGregor poured them a sneaky glass each of the old Pony and Trap and told his friends it was Tullamore Dew.

  'We see you have been cosying up to the Italians McGregor,' said the one Irish.  'Now that is something that we do not like to see.  Your hostelry is standing on Irish territory, and we do not like to see you snuggling up to those New York boys do you hear me?  Now here is a message directly from my boss, Callum Macleod, he doesn't want to see that L.A Thinns in this bar again.  Are you feckin listening to me McGregor?'

  'But the Italians are good for business,' McGregor replied honestly.

  'Not for our business they ain't.  Now listen, you Scottish feck, or have you got feckin cloth in your ears?  My boss does not want to see those Italian boys in your bar again.  If we do see any of them feckers feckin around in your feckin bar again drinking our feckin whiskey then we will come back and set your stupid feckin business on fire.  Are you listen, McGregor?  You better be feckin listening, because as you know, Macleod doesn't take prisoners and he doesn't want the damn New York boys in his town.  The New York boys are outsiders and we don't feckin want them here.  Do  you hear?'

  'In all honesty, this is Fenwick and we are all outsiders in this town.'

  'Are you trying to be feckin clever with me, McGregor?  You live in this town at our feckin leisure.  NO Italians in this bar ever again are you listening?  I hope for your sake that you are.'

  With that being said the Irish left.

  A minute later Freddy arrived.

  McGregor took note of Freddy's dirty muddy suit.

  'Hard day in the office son?' he said.  'What's that scratch on your face?  Have you been in a fight with a couple of good-sized lads?'

  'No.  It's Bolly.  She got the glove out gain...'

  'O right.  Speaking about Bolly now you have married a right cracker there, Freddy.  Well done my boy!'

  'I don't think I understand your meaning, Mr McGregor?'

  'No?  Then you obviously haven't seen this pictures she has been posting on social media lately?  Great pictures by the way.  I have looked at all 1335 of them.  I don't know who this chap she is with in picture 503 see for yourself...'

  Freddy snatched the phone out of McGregors hand and started scrolling down with utter and true unfiltered disgust at all the pictures that were freely on display there.

  'My favourite is number 435 the one where she is on the beach...'

  'I have seen and heard enough,' said Freddy angrily tossing the phone back at the Scotchman.  'If Bolly wants to take pictures of herself with her new boyfriend then there is little I can do about that, but to upload them all to social media for all to see.  How could she do that to me?  What are my old school friends going to say?  "O look at old Freddy boy, sad bolding middle-aged man who married a woman who hoped in bed with the leader of Brazilian Cartel at the soonest opportunity!"  I will be a laughing stock.  I need to get those pictures taken down off of the internet today!'

  'Give this man a call,' and Mr McGregor handed Freddy a card.  'This is the number for my lawyer, Dick Saggers.  Give him a call when you have got a bit of time to spare (And you seem to have a lot of that lately, Freddy boy!) and he will get right to the source, and I don't mean the G-Juice!' and McGregor gave Freddy a sly old wink.  'But seriously when you have a spare moment give Dick a call.  He will get those fine pictures of your wife sorted out for you.  He has got a personal safe to stash away stuff like that!'

  Freddy took the card gratefully and smiled.  'Thank you Mr McGregor,' he replied, humbly.  'You are beyond a good friend to me at this point in my life.'

  'Great.  Now that is sorted let us talk business.'

  'Sure.  What do you want to talk about McGregor?'

  'We are going to be opening these doors to a very important visitor later tonight.  Very important.  L.A Thinns is going to be paying us a little visit so I want you sharp and in shape for when he arrives!'

  'O no!' Freddy groaned.  'Not Mr Thinns again!  I don't like him.  Whenever he turns up the atmosphere in this place changes for the worst, and he keeps on patting me on the head all of the time like I am some kind of an animal.'

  Freddy's negativity brought out a gentle wave of anger in McGregors old heart.  So McGregor pulled Freddy to one side, slapped the man on both sides of the face twice, and shook him up.  'Now you watch that tongue of yours Freddy when you are talking about Mr Thinns like that!  L.A Thinns is a very important man in town and right now I need his help.  I am at war with the Irish Gang and my business is about to bust!  To keep things going I need the support of New York.  The guys from New York are bigger than all of the other guys out there put together.  And when they do finally arrive and start to settle roots I want them on my side.  The Irish are threatening to burn my home down, Freddy, but with the New York Mob at my back none of the other Gangs will dare to mess with me again.'

  It looked like Freddy understood the situation so McGregor finally stopped shaking him.

  McGregor started to calm down.

  'You want a toilet to live in don't you Freddy?'

  'I guess I do Mr McGregor.'

  'Then you will go along with things?'

  'Whatever you say Mr McGregor.  I am very grateful to you and all of the help you have given me these last two weeks.'

  'Good to hear.  Now the question is this: can you play pool Freddy?'

  'Only very badly.'

  'Then you need to learn the game and to learn it real fast!  See that pool table standing over there?  I ordered that today.  When Thinns finally turns up you are going to play pool with him, right?'

  'Do I really have to?'

  'Yes.  You are going to play and you are going to play good!"

  'Damn it!  This is a bad situation.  I don't know if I can do it Mr McGregor!'

  'You will do it and you will do it well.  Let me teach you a few things, Freddy.  To be somebody in this world, a real somebody that is someone who other people respect you need to have money in the bank.  Do you have money in your bank, Freddy?  No of course you don't.  That is why your wife ran off with another man.  Now my plan is to make a lot of money, Freddy.  Luckily for me and luckily for you I know how to do it.  Let me show you the key to my plan.'

  And McGregor slipped behind the bar and returned with a full flowing pint of G-Juice.  It looked beautiful and golden!  McGregor slammed the foaming pint down onto the table for Freddy to get an even better look at.  'That is the key,' said the wily Scotchman.  'That is the best drink in the world!  Do you know why it's so good?  G-Juice gets you drunk and all that, but there is no hangover whatsoever afterwards.  That's right Freddy, it's true!  You can drink as much of this juice as you like and there is absolutely no comeback!'

  'Seriously?  No hangover?'

  'Nothing!  G-Juice delivers the goods and the only price you pay is money!  Lots of money.  I can sell a  regular bottle of whiskey for about 30.  I can sell G-Juice for fifty sometimes sixty.  People really want to buy a drink this stuff like mad!  Imagine the possibilities of selling booze to people that doesn't give you a hangover in the morning?'

  'I think that is a prospect too terrifying to think about.  I think we will all be drunk every second of the day.'

  'So long as they are putting money into this bar I do not care!'

  'I can't believe it, McGregor.  What is this G-Juice stuff anyway?  Liquid magic?  There has to be consequences for drinking this stuff?  It's the way of the universe.  You can't have pleasure without pain!  Things don't work that way.'

  'It's pleasure all the way with G-Juice,' McGregor replied craftily.  'There have been some reports of mild hallucinations...  There was this one chap I remember he told me he saw a Tyrannosaurus Rex standing in his backyard after a few pints.  And o yes!  There was this one fellow called Phil, nice guy, used to come in here often.  He used to be a train operator.  He had a few cheeky pints before going to work - complained about seeing demons and a dragon...  Then during one of his shifts he let his eye off the ball and caused one of the largest train crashes in all the history of Fenwick.  90 people died.  Utterly awful.  But other than that there have been no reports of any serious consequences of drinking G-Juice.'

  'Nice!'

  'And do you know what the best thing is, Freddy?  The largest distiller of this stuff lives in this town and he is my best friend!  Nobody knows who came up with the idea, but the Kings own the recipe and only they know how make the stuff!  My plan is to get the Kings to sell their Juice behind my bar to the Italians, and make me a fortune.  If tonight works out well I think I can create a deal with Mr Thinns that will see shipments of G-Juice travelling all the way to New York, to the casinos and to all the places where the big people live.  And what do the big people like to do, Freddy?  They like to spend BIG.  Now do you see why this meeting is so important?'

  'I do see, McGregor.'

  'Have you ever tried G-Juice before Freddy?'

  'No sir.  But I am sure that pint sitting on that table over there has my name on it and so with your permission I am ready to give it a go!'

  'No so fast, Freddy!  You are not ready for that stuff, not yet!  But your time will come.'

  'Whatever you say Mr McGregor,' Freddy replied weakly and in full defeat.

  'Just drink that pint in now but with your eyes only...  Tell me what you think of it?  How does it look?'

  'It's a work of art Mr McGregor that's what it is.'

  'For sure, Freddy boy.  And this art is going to make me rich!'

  And then McGregor picked up the large pint with both of his hands and glugged the whole drink down in one full flow.

  'No drinks for you tonight Freddy boy,' said a now very tipsy Mr McGregor.  'I need you sober for when Mr Thinns turns up.  I have got a good feeling about this meeting tonight!'

  Just then the doors flew open and the atmosphere in the whole bar changed completely...

  Everyone knew what had happened.

  The pool playing hustler king had finally arrived.

  L.A Thinns steps and after a few casual steps he held the whole room and everyone in it in his presence.  

  And so he begins:

  'Gentleman!  I see that your hands are naked.  Feel free to clothe them with a pool cue or two, I keep plenty of them back in the boot of my car.  I will have my man send some in.  And how is my Chicago boy?' and L.A Thinns stepped up to Freddy and started patting the middle-aged man on the head as though he was some kind of broken and defeated dog lying on the side of the road.

  'I am wonderful Mr Thinns,' Freddy replied meekly.  'I paid the doctor a visit the other day and had my blood tested.  Apparently it turns out that I am two percent Italian!'

  'That's beautiful to hear,' L.A Thinns replied sincerely with joy in his voice.  'It is good to know that I am sharing a room with a man of my own stock!  And what is that beautiful thing setup over there?' said the master hustler eyeing up the pool table.

  'I ordered that for you this morning Mr Thinns,' McGregor replied solemnly.

  'Beautiful stuff!  Ah!  You two are the best!  A Scot and a fellow Italian?  I couldn't ask for better company,' L.A Thinns replied.  'Now fellas let's chalk up and get a game going.  You there, Chicago boy, you like playing pool?'

  'I love it Mr Thinns,' said Freddy.

  'Are you any good at it?'

  'I would say I was average.'

  'I find your honesty humbling I really do,' Mr Thinns replied.  'But there is no need to be modest around me.  We are both Italian we both have the same blood and the same passions.  I made my fortune hustling pool across all of the States.  Now chalk up.  I will teach you the secret to playing good pool.  You see it's not complicated.  Playing good pool is just like making love.  You have to look at the table like it was your own wife.  You have to make love to it.  That's the key, are you listening?  Good.  It's a dance.  It's a union.  You have to be one with the table as you would be with a lover.  That's how it is.  Playing pool it's all about...  what words am I looking for?'

  'It's all about making love?' said Freddy.

  'That's right, Chicago boy,' L.A Thinns replied.  'It's all about making love, rather much like that guy I saw in those pictures on the internet with you wife...Picture number 678 was my favourite the one where she is in the back of that limo,' and Mr Thinns gave Freddy a sly nudge and a quick pat on the head.  

  'Well the pool table is all setup and ready to go Mr Thinns,' said McGregor.  'And once we have had a game then we can talk business...'

  'I am all about business,' Thinns replied gravely.

  'Good, so am I,' said the Scotchman with a glint in his eyes.  Mr McGregor started rubbing his hands together.  'We are going to make a lot of money today!' he said, and then he added:

  'Its the perfect setup!  The Kings have the booze I have the bar and you have the brains Mr Thinns...'

  'No words truer said,' the pool hustler replied coolly.

  It was time to play!

(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

It Happens at Night 6: Bars, Beds and... Graves?

Shovel into soil.

  Good start.

  Dig Dig.  

  Almost there...

  LIGHTS!

  Wow?  What are the lights about?

  There are the sounds of aggressive footsteps heading their way.

  O no!  It's the police!

  'Run for it uncle Lucian!'

  Lucian jumped into a ditch.  He was not proud.

  Freddy on the other hand was caught and cuffed.  

  In little time at all Freddy was ducking his head as he was pushed into the back of car.

  It was over...

  The police took Freddy to a quiet cell where they got the chance to ruff him up for a bit.  Nightshift officers had a hard time staying awake and they required a little entertainment to keep them going...  Freddy was good sport.  After giving him a black eye and a bloody lip, they dragged him by his feet into the main office.

  In there they tied him to a chair using cold hard chains.  The officer gave Freddy one last good hard punch across the jaw, just for old times sake.

  Then everyone left except one man, and he introduced himself next:

  'Hello Freddy.  I am Chief Constable Fiddler.  You have been a very naughty boy.  I would give you a sharp slap or three if I had the energy, for thee.  But tonight I don't and that is a very lucky thing for you.  I am an ex boxer, Freddy, and if there is one thing I know very well and that is to throw a good punch in a mans face.  And you have the kind of face that would serve an eager fist rather well.  But tonight, Freddy boy.  Tonight you get lucky.'

  Freddy, terrified, dared to ask a question:

  'What is this all about?  Why have I been arrested?'

  Fiddler brought out a large box from beneath his desk.  He opened it and brought out a pair of old boxing gloves.  'These are what I used to use back in the day.  I would like to use them now on you, Freddy.  But like I told you already, I am very tired.  Now let me remind you of something before we continue with this pleasant little conversation.  I am the Chief Constable of this region and you are a nobody.  This is my prison, and you are my prisoner.  You don't get to ask questions, Freddy.  That is my job.'

  Fiddler put the boxing gloves away, much to Freddy's enormous relief.

  Now the Chief Constable asked Freddy a very very weird question:

  'Do you have a pet parrot?  NO?  I do.  I like parrots.  They are willing prisoners.  Lock them in a cage and they never complain.  They just stay there.  They know their place.  Unlike people.  I don't like people.  You lock people up and they complain about.  They bring in their lawyers, and then you go to court and then there is a lot of talk, and it goes and on until you lock them up again.  And then they start another case!  You don't get any of that nonesense with a parrot.  Did I mention that I have a pet parrot?  Yes I do.  I have a pet parrot because I like to take my work home with me, you see?  You do see what I am saying, right, Freddy?'

  'You don't like lawyers?'

  'Exactly.  And I don't like cocky punks like you.  I can see that you are going to be trouble, Freddy.  I have seen your kind a hundred times before now.  And they all end up going out the same way, either winding up dead in the sewers, or behind a cell where I hold the keys.'

  'Mr Fiddles...   Fiddler, sorry.  Can ask what it is I have supposed to have done wrong here?'

  'That question is for me to know, and you to unravel the night I lock a cell down on you...'

  'So basically you are detaining me here for no reason?  Surely there must be some kind of law against that.  I mean this isn't the 1212 and you aren't the Sheriff of Nottingham, right?  Because let tell you now I am definitely no Robbin Hood!'

  'But you are a robber, and one of a very serious and sinister nature,' Fiddler returned, grimly.  'We are watching you, Freddy.  You and that weird guy who looks like that character out of that old TV show, the crypt keeper!'

  'That's my uncle Lucien you are talking about there!'

  'Yes, exactly.  Your uncle who looks like the crypt keeper.  Which is ironic because the man likes to hang around crypts doesn't he?  Often people have seen him loitering around graveyards at nighttime, shovel at hand.  He is a very suspicious and dodgy seeming fellow.'

  'Then why aren't you questioning him as well?'

  'In good time Freddy.  Here in the Fenwick Police Department we like to tackle the small fish, before moving up on the bigger fish.'

  'Fine.  So you are holding me here because I like to hang around graveyards.  That's not a crime.'

  'I am going to find dirt on you, Freddy.  And not literal dirt, because you are covered in enough of that stuff already, looking at your dirty coat and scruffy shoes.  I cannot believe that people really think that you are an accountant.  It's a ruse and it doesn't fool me Freddy boy.'

  'Mr Fiddler.  Please.  I am not being funny here, but Fenwick is infested with cartels, gangs and now it looks like the New York Mafia has randomly decided to show up with that L.A Thinns geezer.  Surely these mafia people are the real big fish, not me and my old wobbly uncle who can't sit down in a chair?'

  'Like I pointed out.  We start with the little fish.'

  'Sounds alike an excuse to me.  You don't want to go after the Mafia because they are too scary so you are going to pick on me and my uncle because we are unimpressive and stupid...'

  'Do you still want that punch in the face?  Because let me tell you my fist is p and ready to go!'

  'Alright.  I will keep quiet.'

  'You need to know your place, Freddy.  WE are watching you.  There is a whole folder in the office titled: let's get Freddy.  And we will get you.  Chief Constable Fiddler is in charge of this town now, and I am going to root out evil and put things right again.  I am on a quest to cleanse Fenwick, Freddy, starting with you and your sinister crypt keeping walking corpse of an uncle.'

  After this final speech had been given Fiddler let Freddy go home.

When Freddy finally got out of prison he decided that life was too short and it was time for him to make peace with his beloved Bolly.  Pearls or no pearls, love is built on more than crystalline calcium carbonate.

  The stint in prison taught Freddy that the most important thing in life are the people that you love, and even though he and Bolly we going through a bad time at the time, his marriage was worth saving.  

  Freddy finally realised how lucky he was.

  He was lucky to be free.

  He was lucky to be alive.

  And he was more that lucky to have found a woman like Bolly.  

  Freddy started to think very deeply about life - how differently things could be if he had done things in a slightly different way, if he had gone left in stead of right, spoke to that person and not the other person, chosen a slightly different loan shark to help him pay back his credit card debts, he's life might have been very different.

  It made him quite philosophical!
  'There was a million in one chance of me ever finding Bolly,' he said to himself as he was walking down the streets.  He found himself standing outside his home.  The door was unlocked and so he let himself in.  'I am so lucky to have met her,' he said.  'I need to cherish that luck!  I need to make the best of it!  I am going to go home and win her back!  I am going to do what I have to do as a man!  I know there is still a good sized spark of love lingering between us.  Okay!'  He took a deep breath.  'I am going to do this!  I am home Bolly my love!'

  Freddy was ready to get things done!  

  Nothing was going to stop him!

  He was going to get his woman back!

  So it came as something of a disappointment to Freddy when he found his beloved wife fully in bed with another man...

  And not just any man - NO - but the infamous Brazilian Cartel Lord Corta Boa Almoço!  

  Five minutes later, after Bolly had gotten dressed, she and Freddy got talking in the kitchen.

  'How could you do this to me Bolly?' said Freddy weakly.  'You know how much I love you.  We are supposed to be married for goodness sake!'

  'I like being married to you Freddy,' said Bolly.  To be honest her positive answer shocked Freddy so hard to the core that it nearly knocked him off of his feet!  

  She continued:

  'Being married to you suits me Freddy.  It allows me to live here in Fenwick for free.  But you must understand, Freddy, I am a woman and I need a good strong man in my life.  You are not strong, Freddy,' and with those words being brought forth into existence Feeddy's heart smashed to pieces like a Nintendo controller being thrown against a wall by an angry child back in the 1980s.  'You are a simple man, Freddy,' she went on.  With each word that left her soul, Freddy's general mentality started to edge closer and closer to the abyss...  'You are weak,' she said.  'You are a cake with no yeast.  A dog with no bite.  You have no passion.  I want a man who is an oak tree.  You...  You are a weed.  Corta is a beast of a man!  But you, Freddy, you are a dandelion.'

  Well at least she was being honest, there was that at least.  But honesty didn't make Freddy feel any less like throwing himself out of a window with a tight and taught piece of rope snuggled around his throat.

  'I can put up with a lot of bad things, Bolly, but this is too much even for me!' Freddy replied.  'Of all of the men in town you could have taken into your bed you chose that monster Corta?  Do you have any idea who he is?  He is the leader of the cartel...  Have you not heard about him on the news?  Remember hearing about that guy who was put living inside a barrel of acid?  Corta did that. Corta is one of the most wanted men on the planet!  Indeed the only reason the army has dragged him off somewhere is because Fenwick doesn't exist anywhere on any map.  Damn Bolly!  You are putting yourself in danger being with that vile man.'

  'But I love danger,' Bolly returned with ease.  'Corta is a beast, yes, but he makes me feel alive.  I love being with Corta.  He is so frightening and I love the fear I receive from him never knowing from one day to the next whether he is going to kill me or throw me out of a window - I love it!  The thrill of his next temper tantrum it makes me tremble!  It is like being on a wild roller-coaster ride; a ride without straps and handles.  Every morning I awake with the prospect of facing death and its wonderful!  He literally makes my heart skip a beat.  I just love Corta and his aggressive ways!  You must respect my feelings, Freddy.'

  'You just said you love the thrill of danger from one day to the next...  So have you been seeing this man for a long time then?  That's how it sounds to me.'

  'Since I arrived, Freddy.  The first day you left for work I brought that man into my bed.'

  'Good lord...'

  'Without Corta I would not be able to live in this town.  I am sorry, Freddy, but you make me want to kill myself.'

  'Well I am sorry to make you feel that way, Bolly, but let me educate you about a very real fact:  you definitely won't live for long in that man's company!' Freddy replied, and he was speaking truly and from experience.

  Freddy was shaking his head.  He did not know what else to say.

  'If it makes you happy, Freddy, you and me we can get divorced,' said Bolly.

  Freddy had to weigh out the ramifications of such a procedure.

  Divorced equalled two things:  Humiliation on the streets, and total humiliation on social media.

  He said NO to that.

  'It's okay Bolly,' Freddy replied.  'I think our marriage is always worth fighting for!  I love you and I know that you love me...somewhere...somewhere very well hidden.  I am willing to forgive you for this affair and I am willing to wait for you to return to me.  This thing you have going on with Corta it will not last.  It's a faze that's all.  Everyone has them (except me).  You will leave him.  You will come back to me I know you will.  Remember what you said to me when we first met in that beautiful Thai city of Tittybong?'

  'I was going to cut your throat while you were asleep?'

  'No!  After that.  You said to me, "I want no other man but Freddy."'

  'No other man but Freddy buried in the ground I think that is what it was I said?'

  'That's right!  We will grow old and get buried together (unless good old Uncle Lucien decides to dig us up!).  I know we can make it through this Bolly.  This is just a bad patch.  All good relationships have them!  Why should our marriage be any different.'

  Just then in the midsts of that heart warming moment Corta came down the stairs holding a machete.

  'YOU!  PIG!' he shouted pointing at Freddy.  'You come with me DOG.'

  Corta led Freddy into the back of his car, and by the back I mean the trunk, and drove him away somewhere...

They must have been driving for about thirty minutes when the car finally stopped and then Corta let Freddy out.

  They were in the park, near the woods.

  'You walk now, Dog, in front of me.  You do not talk unless I tell you to talk.  Comprende?  Good!  Now carry this shovel and go!'

  Corta took Freddy on a long and deeply unpleasant walk through the woods.

  Freddy could not believe there were still places left in the world more disturbing and ugly than the inside of Mr McGregor's toilet, but there he was in Fenwick Wood with an insane lunatic holding a machete at his back and now he knew the solemn truth...  There is always something nastier out there waiting to greet you in the big bad ugly old world!

  It couldn't get much worse than this, could it?  Freddy decided not to think about such things as they went along - it just wasn't worth the effort of tempting fate like that (because good old fate always has something much nastier lurking up its horrible long dirty bedraggled sleeve).

  They finally stopped when they reached a clearing.

  Corta made Freddy lift his shovel dig.

  Luckily Freddy had a lot of experience with this kind of work, and he dug a decent sized hole in the ground.

  A hole large enough for a person to lie in.

  O wait!  Where was this business with Corta leading exactly?

  'This is your grave,' said Corta, and then he thumped Freddy in the chest, edging him closer to the rim of the pit.  'You stay away from me and Bolly.  Bolly is mine.  I see you with her again and I will bring you back here and I put you in the hole and cover you in dirt!  I bury you here, do you hear me, Dog?  Answer when you are spoken to!'

  'I hear you,' Freddy replied meekly.

  'Good!  I can go home to my woman now, in peace,' said Corta.  'You, dog, you stay here and think.  You mess with Corta business again and I break your legs.  Know your place dog.  Corta owns Fenwick.  I rule in this town.  The people here are mine.  Bolly is mine.  YOU are mine, dog.  And when I want to put you down, I will put you down!  Now go to sleep!'

  Corta returned to his car and drove away, leaving Freddy covered in mud but still breathing.

  

  

(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

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

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

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

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

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

  The situation was this:  

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

  They meant to kill him.

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

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

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

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

  So Freddy knew what he had to do...

  Freddy paid the local florist a visit.

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

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

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

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

  Now the poor man was truly vexed beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'What do you want?' said Bolly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'What's happening then?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Aye.'

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

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

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

  'But all I can afford are wasps?'

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

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

  'If you say so, Freddy.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Too late!

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

  'Where are you from Freddy?'

  Freddy told Mr Thins that he was from Brighton.

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

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

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

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

  Thins started slapping Freddy on the cheek again.

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

  'Freddy boy!  Do you play pool?'

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

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

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

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

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

  'Thank you Mr Thins I appreciate that!'

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

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

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

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

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

  'O!  I am sorry...'

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

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

  A pearl neckless?

  A PEARL NECKLESS!

  The perfect gift for Bolly!

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

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

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

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

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Previous part here

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

Jim's Subway part 1

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

Also take a look at:

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

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW