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Saturday, 26 September 2026

GOX 9: The Trip (Part 6) The Trap

Greg and Pete were looking for a place to hide.
They had just seen somebody they both had a strong disliking for.
It was Harry, the strange needy kid from school.

'Yeah that is Harry alright!' said Greg desperately. 'I can't believe it is him! Snivelling twerp! Look at him, dripping about. I can't believe he managed to get a girlfriend. The bastard. What's so special about him? He stinks. I can smell his unclean fousty odour from here. What is he doing out here in Sunscale? I thought he was a housebound twat like the rest of us?'

'Well we are not housebound any more are we?' said Pete, unhelpfully.

'That's not funny, Pete. You do know who is Dad is right?' said Greg.

'Wait? You are not talking about that idiot who runs the mini mart across the road from you? O no! Not him! Didn't he try to get us arrested?'

'Yeap,' said Greg.

'Why did he do that?'

'We were trying to steal those jelly beans so we deserved it I guess. But I hate that shop, I hate the man who runs it and I hate that kid. Damn you Harry! What is he doing out here in the waste?'

'Maybe he is hunting us?' said Pete. 'I mean we didn't pay for those jellybeans in the end!'

'Maybe you are right,' Greg replied reluctanty. 'Maybe the filth is tracking us down! Damn it! We are going to have to find somewhere to hide, Pete. O gosh! I think he has seen us! He is making his way over. Quick Pete let's run!'

So the lads were looking for a place to hide and they ended up pitching tents inside the Wellington.

Now let me tell you about The Wellington...

In the year of our lord 1808 Arthur Wellesley - Duke Wellington - left Ireland for the Iberian Peninsula to participate in the Peninsular War. Along the way Lord Arthur decided, for some bizarre reason no historical text can account for, to stop and stay at Fenwick...

...

During his stay he is said to have done all sorts of crazy things, drinking, womanising and all that stuff that men used to get up to in the 19th century, things that are banned or abolished in the year 2026. Apparently, according to local legend, he was very popular among the locals, especially the ladies, so much as so that the memory of his stay in Fenwick eventually manifested into popular legend. In 1956 the locals decided to honour the memory of Arthurs visit by building a public house to him and they dedicated the building to his name and to his memory.

THE WELLINGTON FREE HOUSE it became known.

As glorious as the history is behind this free house the building itself was a dump.

The literal definition of a back alley pub.

You touched grease on the door before you felt the grease inside the building.

The building was so unclean one could forget themselves and image it was really built by Arthur in 1808 and left that way ever since 1808, it was such a disgusting place.

The building was full of dogs. And I do not mean dogs as a metaphor for ruffians off of the street NO! I mean literal dogs, unwashed and unclean beasts infested with fleas and infected with odours that would please a sewage treatment plant.

The owner of the Wellington kept this vast overweight Saint Bernard about the place, and the animal made a habit of sleeping on booked seats or disturbing customers whenever they were eating. The beast was renown for sticking its head into freshly cooked meals and drinking booze. The beast had great watery blue eyes. It looked thoroughly stoned, like it had emerged from a acid induced hippie trip from 1966. Maybe the dog was a time traveller from that era?

Who can tell?

The world is a strange place.

And this is the place Greg and Pete entered as they were trying to escape and hide from the dreaded Harry.

The lads were under age so they could not order drinks BUT they could buy food, and if the thirst got hold of them they could always have a sneaky sip or two of the spiced wine in their bags...

The spiced wine is what eventually led them into trouble - but not with the owner...

NO.

Watching them was a lusty lad named Jack.

Now our boy Jack liked to fight. Yes he was all about might is right. There was a song about him in town: "OUR BOY JACK! Jack: He liked to drink he liked to fight he was the kinda guy the ladies liked."

His girlfriend Jill emerged from the toilet.

He whistled her over like she was some kind of a pig.

'YOU! DOG!' he said to her. 'Are you listening to me?'

'Do I have any choice?' she replied reluctantly.

Jack slapped her around the face for that. Then Jill replied meekly in response to the savage slap, 'Yes, Jack my love. I am listening to you.'

'Good. Dog! See those two squirmy bastards over there?' he said. 'They are carrying these fine bottles of spiced wine. My favourite drink. I want you to chat them up. You do not have to sleep with them. Just sweet talk them. I don't care what you say or do, just get that wine off of them and bring the bottles to me! Do you hear me dog?'

'I hear you my love,' she replied softly. 'I will do my best.'

Jill decided she was going to take on Pete first.

She undid the first two buttons of her top and wafted herself about the young man. 'And how are you today handsome?' she said. 'Looking for company?'

Pete's reply was blunt but true: 'Sorry love! Might as well do your buttons up! That sort of thing won't work on me. I am asexual.'

Jill gave up on Pete and made her way over to Greg.

'Hey there gorgeous,' she said to him. 'What are you doing? Fancy buying me a drink? We can talk somewhere quiet if you like?'

'You seem very kind and very nice,' said Greg in return, 'but to be honest, whatever your name is, I can't be bothered with any of that. To be honest I would rather just drink and play video games if that is alright with you?'

Jill did her buttons back up and returned to Jack.

'There is nothing I can do,' she said. 'They are both gay.'

'Useless dog!' Jack bellowed at her. He slapped her round the face for a second time that day. 'Come on. Dog! Let's get out of here before YOU embarrass us any more!' And they both walked out of the building.

The owner of the Wellington had his eye on Greg and Pete from the moment the lads entered his business. As soon as Jack and Jill had left he made his way over to them and asked for their ID.

'You cannot drink her boys,' he said to them confidently.

'Can't drink, eh? What? Not even water?' Greg replied, trying to be clever.

But Greg's cleverness backfired dramatically when the owner snatched the water bowel from the Saint Bernard and just handed it over to him - plopping it down onto the table like some foul gift from a foul land.

'There you go,' said the owner. 'Water. Enjoy.'

Greg had been defeated...

Now let's talk about the owner of the Wellington, well, what can I say about him?

As odd pennies go he was the strangest in the purse. Of all the odd pennies he was the kind that stood out from the rest - the kind of penny you would happily discard down a drain.

He was a tall man, quite intimidating for sure.

He was in his sixties. His hair was unwashed and greased all back with grease. But that was not all. He had a strange tail sticking out of his backside. Quite odd.

'Look! I will do you lads a favour,' he said. 'I will get my wife to make you both a nice cup of tea. You can drink tea here, as long as you pay for it.'

'Fine! We will have tea. And we will pay for it,' said Greg.

And so the tea was brought on.

The owners wife did the pouring. The woman herself was in her forties, maybe. She was an animated beach ball for sure. Greased up and greased down with her hair greased back just like her husband. But unlike her husband she had the taste and the grace not to have a great big hairy tail hanging out of her vast pumpkin sized backside.

She came over with a kettle and poured the lads a brew.

The tea looked thick and oily after it had been poured. You could see whole lumps of grease floating on the surface of the cups.

It was quite gross.

The owner stirred the tea with his tongue. 'Enjoy your tea lads,' he said. Then the owner turned round bent over and wobbled his tail about in front of the lads before wobbling back to the bar with his beach ball wife at his side.

Greg and Pete took their oily tea and looked about the building.

They needed to blend in with the crowd.

It was the only way they were going to hide.

They couldn't take the risk of Harry walking in and finding them...

The guy might be spying on them!

Finally they found this friendly old Irish man. A kindly chap. He was bathing his naked feet in a bucket of wine. He waved the lads over, 'Take a seat with me boys,' he said, and that is what the lads exactly did.

So for the next hour the lads sat there and listened to the Irishman while trying to drink the oily filth from their cups.

'If there is one thing about this country that annoys me and that is that a man does not have the right to own a gun,' said the Irishman. 'This isn't the UK for bloody hells sake! Sorry! Let me introduce myself. My names Ross!' Then Ross lifted one of his bare legs up and put one of his wine sodden feet on the table. 'I can't shake you with my hands lads because both of my hands are frail - I used to be a tin miner. Bot I can shake you both with my bare foot here.'

Greg, who was slightly drunk, shook the Irishman’s foot, but Pete who still hadn't drunk quite so much and still had a few of his wits about him slid a few feet away. The Irishman looked offended by Pete's reluctance to deal with his foot. But after a drink he slipped his naked leg back down into the bucket of wine and then he seemed to quickly forget about the situation.

'We are living in a dangerous country,' said Ross. 'It is requisite a man has a gun to defend himself in Fenwick. He has NO CHOICE but to fight!' Ross rambled on. 'We have a population of one thousand seven hundred women and three hundred men. Thirty of those men are in the police, and ten of them are in the local army. We have to rely on the Americans for military strength for goodness sake! It is a sad situation. It is no wonder we have all these problems. Now I know we managed to rid ourselves of the Brazilian cartels and that was all thanks to the Americans. But the problem these days aren't the cartels. Not any more. It is the Mafia. Yeah, you heard me. The Italians are taking over, stealing our jobs and our women and leaving the locals high and dry. I am a war veteran you know? But what respect do you think I get for my service? None!'

Greg dared to ask the Irishman what war he was a veteran of, and the Irishman Ross happily told him.

'Any of you two feckers ever heard of the Hidden War?' said Ross.

Greg and Pete shook their heads. They had never heard of it.

'Well you should have heard of it,' said Ross. 'It was 1956, back when they were building this beautiful bar here. I was a young lad at the time in love with a young girl called Olivia. She kicked me in the crotch, you know? It was around about that time Russian soldiers came parachuting out of the skies. It was the Cold War and all that. The Soviets wanted to take over Fenwick and use the island as a stepping stone to take out the UK. Now I do not like Britain. The bastards abandoned us during the Second World War. But none of us locals were going to let any of those commies take over Fenwick. No sir. We fought those scum in the hills and in the forests and in the swamps and in the wastes. Those Soviets were so scared of us they never came back! The Hidden War lasted two days! I will never forget it! My best memories are of me and the lads fighting the commies side by side. Most of the commies got stuck in the trees with their parachutes but that was their stupid fault for trying to attack us. We just killed them anyway. It was war. O Yes. War. And there I was. I was a soldier. A hero. I was wearing a uniform. I had killed other men! And I thought to myself "Now is the time to try again with Olivia!" Women love men in uniforms, right? They love soldiers, and they love men who are killers - look at all those women who send love letters to psycho killers locked up in jail. So there I was thinking to myself, "Now is my time!" I finally have got a chance with my beloved Olivia! I found her nearby in the local country pub and I gave her flowers and offered to buy her a drink and all that. Do you know what she did back to me? She took her pint smashed it over the bar and tried to stab me in the throat. And that was the end of that. Do you know what she did next? She ended up marrying an Italian! You see what I mean? The Italians are taking over!'

'Sorry to hear about that Ross,' said Greg. 'That is a sad story you have got there.'

'Ah! I don't mind. It's life,' Ross went on. 'I found joy in the end by drinking good beer and watching football. You know there is a big game tonight don't you lads? Cardiff V Barcelona!'

Now Greg and Pete were not the best fans of football but whenever there was a match to be had that involved Cardiff... Well they had to know about it.

'Cardiff? Really?' spoke up Pete. 'Damn! Best team in the country!'

'Best team in the world you mean,' said Ross. 'There is nothing better than seeing those fine Welsh lads beating the ball about! I have always loved Cardiff. Best team. Quality players.'

'Being Irish, Ross, I thought you would have supported an Irish team?' said Greg.

'When I was young, yeah, I was with Cork and all that,' said Ross. 'But as I got older I got wiser, and then one fine day I saw Cardiff beat Paris in 1966 and I was like, "those are the boys I want to support," and I never turned back,' Ross replied. 'It is going to be a good match tonight. Let's have a drink, lads! Let's drink to Cardiff!'

'I would love to but we are under age,' Pete replied.

'No worries lads, uncle Ross will sort you out,' said Ross. Ross whistled and the beach ball behind the bar rolled over and dropped two clean glasses down. When she was gone Ross dipped the glasses into the bucket of wine at his feet and handed them back to his companions. The glasses were all full up to the brim. He gave the lads a little sly wink. 'Get some of that stuff burning in your gullets lads and you will be good to go!' he said.

So they raised their glasses together and cried:

TO CARDIFF!

And then everyone else in the room cheered:

TO CARDIFF! The best football team in the world!

'Well lads I had better head off back home,' said Ross finally. 'It is a long walk back to Deadrock Point. And there are sea lions all around the coast! They attack you mind. That is what I mean by being given the right to own guns. But the government says no, and so an old man like me must walk in fear of sea lions and crabs and... sharks. Yes boys! You hear me right. Sharks! We have got em big and bad around the oceans of Fenwick. But how does a shark reach a man when he is on lad? Well that is the job of the golden eagles! We have got BIG golden eagles here in Fenwick. Now I love the eagles they have an innocent look in their eyes when they try to kill you. But the eagles along the coast especially them near Deadrock are big enough and strong enough to carry a full grown man and toss him into the sea... And that is when the sharks do their job. And it is not just sharks in the salty waters out there we have to worry about... no. It is the whales as well. The whales out there in the seas of Fenwick have developed a taste for human blood - rather like a Kodiak Bear when they taste a living man they want more of it. Now a whale will eat you WHOLE! Image slowly digesting to death in the gut of a whale...? O my! But there are things even worse than whales in the ocean... O... Red devils we call them. Colossal squid! Eat you alive they will with their eagle sized beaks. There is a lot to be frightened of out there lads. And that is why I make the argument for the local man being given the right to firearms to defend himself against the terrors of the world. Good luck lads! I hope you find what you are looking for.'

'Actually before you go can you help us?' said Greg, slyly.

Greg plopped the picture of the GOX house down onto the table. Then Greg asked Ross if he had ever seen the place before.

Ross glared at the photo and then spat on the floor. 'Never seen it before lads,' he said, and then he left the building.

The photo was still sitting on the table. The Saint Bernard with his acid induced 1966 eyes was eyeing it up as his next meal... He was about to come over and eat it!

That was when a voice drifted into hearing:

'O I know that place!'

The lads looked up.

It was Harry!

He had finally tracked them down!

DAMN!

The lads had failed to escape him!

'Yeah I know that place,' Harry went on. 'It is just across the road from the shop where I live. Yeah! It is up the road from your place Greg! Come one you should know! I can't believe you have never seen it before? Me and my girlfriend had our first date outside of it. She is into Gothic horror stuff and just fell in love with the look of this creepy old abandoned house...'

DAMN!

It was time to go home.

To Read GOX part 8 click here.

For more adventures set in the town of Fenwick check out:

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT

JIM'S SUBWAY

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Friday, 25 September 2026

ANGRY TAPE

He is old, washed up, broken (literally) and upset. He used to be popular and well liked. But now he is just dumped in the trash. He is Angry Tape! VHS Forever!

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Tuesday, 22 September 2026

On Being A Writer

If you have a book inside of you then let it flow up!

Write it!

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Thursday, 17 September 2026

GOX 8: The Trip (Part 5) The Eyes of Innocence

Greg and Pete ended up being unloaded into a dusty grotty basement. And then they got tied to chairs.

Of all of the disastrous situations the lads had gotten themselves into since leaving home this present business with the Mafia was indeed out there as the most horrible experience of them all. YES it was everything horrible you could image! This new horrible experience was the elixir to gloom, the antidote to joy, the remedy against happiness! It was the ultimate of the most ultimate of crap to ever be experienced in the whole human experience and it was all disastrously conceived in one single place. Einstein would have been blown away to see so much calamity gathered in a single section of human space. If he had ever witnessed a portion of Pete and Greg's lives back in the day he would have addressed the faculty in one of his lectures with something like: 'Zis is impossible!' And this is from the man who penned the theory of relativity.

In other words the lads were in a pickle...

'Don't worry Greg. It might all be the work of the DT's,' said Pete, who was trying to be positive through all the horror of their current predicament. He truly did deserve a medal then. Most people would have completely broken down or died of a heart attack - but Pete was still with it and still positive. It was all pretty impressive really.

'Sorry Pete,' Greg replied glumly. 'We are stone sober right now. But gosh do I wish I was drunk. It might make this damn mess a little cleaner.'

The smartly dressed Italian introduced himself as Don Gambino Salvatore Maranzano Thins. He was pacing up and down restlessly chewing a toothpick and looking every now and then at a framed painting of his his beloved uncle LA Thins the master pool player.

The Don finally stopped his pacing to speak:

'You lads are fools to play games with me,' he said. 'My family have power in Fenwick. We have contacts in New York as well. Look! See that fine painting on the wall up there. That is my Uncle, LA Thins. Master pool player. All men feared him when he was alive. He offered the hand of friendship to the Kings during the Irish Wars. But the Kings bit his hand... They betrayed him. They stole his shop, his name... his memory. Now I am going to bite back even if it means fighting a war. I will do it all for my uncle and for my family. Do any of you in this room understand what I am saying?'

Greg and Pete were too scared to understand anything at that moment but they wagged their heads approvingly because that seemed the right thing to do in the moment.

'I offered a tender hand of friendship to the Kings,' the Don droned on. 'I gave them friendship. I forgave the Kings for their crimes against the family. We straightened things out with one another. We worked together for years. Our two families were finally bound by honour. But it was not enough! The treachery of the Kings cannot be stemmed. They are all thugs and killers. Savages. And then they stole from me. This is a debt that can only be repaid by blood. Now you are going to tell me what I want to know about the Kings. What is their next move?'

'I know nothing about the Kings,' Greg replied with a stammer.

'I don't even know who they are,' said Pete choking on his tears.

'You are both very good actors I will give you that,' said the Don. 'The Kings bought quality when they invested in you two. First class actors, but second class liars. Because you see I can tell you are lying to me. You will talk. Do you hear? You will talk and you will tell me EVERYTHING.'

'Listen mate! You have got the wrong guys,' said Greg.

The Don turned and slapped Greg clean around the face.

'Like I said I am going to give you time to think,' the Don went on. 'When I return you will speak and you will tell me what I want to hear.'

There was another person in the room. The Don switched the lights on. It was Vance.

Of course it was...

This is what the Don said to him:

'As for you, King. For you the nightmare has only just to begun...' After that the Don walked away slamming the basement door shut behind him as he left the scene.

The three of them were on their own at last.

So there was Vance, looking in bad shape and all tied up. Weird thing is it looked like he was actually enjoying the experience. There was a smile on his face. He looked happy. It made no sense at all. Vance really was a weird penny in a purse...

'Don't worry lads,' said Vance with a cheereful beat in his voice.

'Don't worry! We are not worried, Vance. NO! We are flipping terrified,' Greg replied.

'There is no need to feel that way! Listen! It's all fake' said Vance.

WHAT?

Pete and Greg were confused and they were indeed well within their rights to feel that way...

What did Vance mean it was ALL fake?

They asked Vance to explain himself.

'It's a setup. All of it. I paid for this experience,' said Vance. 'That's right! I paid to get kidnapped!'

'You paid money to set this all up?' said Greg. Greg was plainly confused as ever, but also a little relieved as well. 'If what you are saying is true then I am glad of course!' Greg went on. 'Please tell me you are being serious with us right now?'

'Don't worry lads! It is ALL cool! I have a CODE word that get us out of this fix! It is true! As soon as I use the CODE they will let us go home,' said Vance.

As soon as Pete heard this he stopped crying. 'Why would you want to experience something as horrible as this?' he said. 'I mean why would you waste money just to be terrified to death by insane gangsters?'

'For the thrill!' Vance replied calmly. 'It is something weird I am into, that's all.'

THAT'S ALL????

'You get to my age and you have seen it all,' said Vance wistfully. He sounded like he was talking about some fine old memory of when he used to take his pet dog for a walk in the fields, not about paying people to kidnap him for fun. 'I have sampled every drug every drink - everything,' Vance droned on. 'I have been in a war I was in the Falklands. I have tasted all that life has to give. There is no more thrill in just being. Some people they like to settle down, and I get it. But that ain't me, lads. That ain't me. I never wanted to settle down. My uncle used to kick me for it. He told me I was carrying the King name. My uncle can't have kids, you see. He wanted me to have kids. I didn't want kids. I have had plenty of chances... But... I just can't settle down! I can't do it!'

'So you pay the Mafia to kidnap you instead?' said Greg.

'That is my whole life there on a silver platter,' said Vance. He sighed before he continued. 'I am addicted to being kidnapped. I can't help,' he said. 'Nothing else in the world gives me such a rush. I am a man of the world. I have jumped out of aeroplanes, jumped out of cars stood in front of trains - but nothing in the world quite beats being kidnapped by armed and dangerous thugs.'

It was obvious to all who knew Vance by now that the man was plainly weird. But being kidnapped for fun? Really? How weird does weird actually get - that's what Greg was thinking right then as he sat and squirmed in that gloomy room under the ground.

Yes. Vance was definitely up there in the list of highly weird human beings. He might actually take pole position on that grid!

'I know what you are thinking,' Vance went on. 'Yeah. I am disturbed. I know. But I like being this way. I would rather be disturbed than, you know, like most other people and let's be honest most people are just as interesting as plank of wood. Actually, no, I am wrong. A plank of wood is actually quite interesting if you think about it, I mean you can whittle it down and make something good out of it if you but try. You cannot do that with people. That's why I like being who I am. I am a broken soul, and that is good! A broken soul is like broken glass - sharp but beautiful. The sun glistens in the broken glass and shimmers and when it does that the glass is like diamonds - beautiful, priceless. You get the same thing with a human who operates through life with fully defeated soul. That's me, completely destroyed, and I am proud of myself and I love being this way. I can tell you how I got started on this broken path, but it is quite a story. You guys want to listen to it?'

The lads said they would listen. I mean what else were they going to do - all helpless and tied up. 'Go on then Vance tell us your story,' they said.

And Vance told his story: 'My first memory is of when I was three years old. My parents used to go for long walks around the Deadrock Bay. That is where I was attacked by a huge golden eagle. A vast creature all feathers and wings and claws. That fine bird pulled me out of my pram and carried me five feet into the air, so my father later told me. The animal was going to dash me against the rocks of the bay but my father caught me and saved me in time. But I will never forget the memory of that beautiful eagle... Such a gorgeous bird. The best. The memory of that winged thing has always stayed with me. Do you want to know what it was about the bird I liked the best? It was its eyes, and its face. The eagle had an innocent look in its eyes. A beautiful look. I will never forget it. Such beauty such innocence, like a child on an adventure that is how it was with that bird. You see the thing about the eagle is that kills, yes it does, but it kills in an innocent and goodly way. It kills because it must. It has to. It kills to live. I will never forget the look of that beautiful creature - the look of innocence in its lovely eyes. Nature alive! One of Gods most beautiful pieces of work... When the eagle attacked me I was never afraid through any of it not for a single second. NO! Child that I was back then I never cried. How could I cry a single tear when I saw the innocent look in that creatures noble face. These days when I think back on that beautiful memory I feel a note of sadness but not for me. I feel sad for the eagle. By my death I would have filled the bellies of a full family of eagles... Because I was too fat and heavy the eagle couldn't carry me away, and its hatchlings may have all died because of that. All of its babies dead on my account. That thought haunts me. It has haunted me forever - the thought that those baby eagles died because I was such stupid fat baby. I should have died that day so those beautiful eagles could have lived on. I carry the guilt of those dead eagles in my blood. And that is why I do what I do. I have to live like this - I have to be punished. I must suffer for the memory of those beautiful winged beasts. Sigh! I just can't get the memory of it out of my head, lads - the sight of those beautiful innocent eyes. Such lovely eyes...'

Just then the door leading into the basement broke open and a good number of armoured police poured in. One of them fired a shot, probably to scare the lads! The captain of this squad raised his weapon and pointed it at each of the men in turn, finally squaring off with Greg he said, 'Stay completely still! You are ALL under arrest!'

Greg thought it was a joke. I mean how could he not do anything else but stay still? He was all tied up - he was not going anywhere! So confident that these armoured and dangerous looking men were all part of the game like the Mafia, Greg turned and looked at Vance and said out loud, 'I suppose you have got a CODE as well to get rid of this lot, eh?'

And Vance replied, sadly, 'Sorry lads! These guys are for real!'

DAMN!

The three men were untied and then marched out of the basement and then on into the back of a van.

An hour later and they were all in a police station. The three men were separated and put into holding cells - and there they were made to wait goodness knows how long, could have been day. Could have been longer. They received no food no water. It looked like they had been left to rot.

Greg wanted to cry he was so depressed.

It was in that most hideous moment of his life that the cell door opened and Constable Maddox, head of the department, filled the room. Yes. He filled it literally. He was quite a big man - he had a real frightening aura and a shadow that looked like a second person that was about to lunge at you. He was a frightening guy.

Greg had no idea what was going to happen next!

He was completely at the mercy of the Constable.

'Does this look familiar to you?' said the Constable holding up a loo roll.

Greg stammered. He was very afraid.

He didn't want to admit that he knew anything about a certain mischievous loo roll thief... But then he didn't want to spend another day locked in prison.

So his heart gave in and he decided to tell the truth.

This is what he said - a confession from Greg:

'Yes. I have seen a few of those... But it was NOTHING to do with me I swear! My mate Pete is the same as me! We know nothing! We were looking to get into town and we just hitched a ride with this guy... We didn't know who he was...'

'So you admit you know about the loo roll theft?' said the Constable in a very daunting voice.

'No... not really. Look, sir, this guy called Vance turns up on his wheels and offers us a lift. Along the way he showed us where he lived... for some reason... we didn't ask why but he did. And then after that everything just went mad. I would go as far as to say that Pete and I are victims in all this crazy loo roll business.'

'Let's say I believe you and I let you go, where will you go?' said the Constable. 'You guys are young. You should be at school taking your lessons building a future for yourselves. How do I know if I open the door and let you out you will not become entangled with the loo roll theft business again? Vance is a very powerful and persuasive man. Give me some assurance that you will not let him reel you back in. Reel you in like a full loo roll.'

'I promise you! I will go back home and go back to school...'

'Write your name on this piece of paper,' said the menacing Constable. 'That will be your assurety to me that you will not get involved with this business again. Now I want your number and your address. Your parents will have to know about this disgrace. I want you kids at school - not getting involved with known and dangerous criminals. That is not a good sign for our future. Are we clear about that, boy?'

'As clear as a summers sky sir!'

'Well I don't know about that,' said the Constable. 'Sometimes summer skies have occasional clouds. I pray there are no clouds in your words?' The constable did not trust Greg and still felt the need to press the lad.

Greg was very afraid, but he stayed true to his conscience.

'Not a cloud not a speck in the sky!' Greg replied bravely. 'No sir! It is one of those high summer days when the skies are totally clear I promise,' he said.

Constable Maddox took a deep breath. He looked satisfied with Greg's reply.

'Good man,' the Constable returned. 'Now I am going to let you and your friend go. But in future you stay away from Vance King. You DO NOT want to end up like him!'

'O don't worry sir! We will definitely not end up being like him of that I can promise!' said Greg confidently.

After that the police let Greg go.

WHAT A RELIEF!

Greg met Pete at the back of the station where they dumped all the trash.

Pete looked pretty shaken but he was all in one piece, thank goodness.

The police gave them back their valuables and also very weirdly their bag that was full of bottles of the spiced wine and other high alcoholic and extremely toxic beverages... It seemed bizarre that the police didn't rife through their belongings and seize the contraband I mean the bottle of 90 proof G-Juice was enough to land a man three months in jail... But ah well - when luck wants to offer you a good turn you never turn it down and you never ask it WHY. You just take it and you enjoy it.

'Well perhaps they just didn't want the booze to go waste,' said Pete examining the contents of the bag. 'But I tell you what mate I fancy getting wasted right now!'

'I do as well mate,' Greg replied. 'Let us kill some brain cells and perhaps we will forget the whole damn nightmare we have just experienced.'

'Right let's do it!' said Pete.

With that the lads whipped out a bottle each and started to glug.

The good times were back on!

To Read GOX part 7 click here.

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