The Legend of Bollo The Blue Clown

Bollo had a full set of blue hair.

  He dyed it daily.

  Because you see...

  Bollo was a clown!

  And a successful one!

  Back in the 90s, that was Bollo's heyday, the clown was generally well liked, he had plenty of friends and fans and Bollo would rock up to parties on his one-wheeled unicycle, juggling his clubs and pins and tickling people with his jokes.

  So people young and old thought he was great and Bollo was having a generally good time of it - until the winter of 2002.  It was in that year Bollo met and eventually married a strange witch-like women.  Many believed she had woven some kind of cruel spell over the clown, but after the marriage Bollo was never the same man again...

  Never again...

  Bollo the blue clown was literally gone - the laughter, the joker, all a memory...

  Poor Bollo.

  After nine years his strange witch-like wife divorced Bollo clean.  She took his house and all of his money.  She took away his beloved unicycle threw it out to the trash - hell!  She even took his dignity.

  And that should of been that for Bollo - BUT the Blue clown kept trucking on like a true hero - but his reputation as a fun loving soul was in the dirt...  That marriage had broken him!

  These days the clown could still be found performing tricks, but time and age had found a way to steal most of Bollo's clownish charm that had made him popular back in the 90s...  People in town grew to dislike Bollo very deeply - some even started to consider him a menace.  

  Bollo hung around pubs, you see.  He lived on the streets where he begged for drinks, waiting and hoping for some charitable soul to take him in and give him a roof for a night or two. 

  Bollo grew a reputation as a dirty drunk, some would say Bollo was an outright degenerate, and Bollo had adopted a very annoying habit of spraying water on people and later apologising about it saying he had confused them for a window.  Those kind of old-school tricks might have worked well with the kids during a birthday party back in the day but fully grown professional adults did not appreciate being randomly sprayed with water in the streets.  One man, who was actually the exchequer for the local council, was so angry at being sprayed in the face with water that he had Bollo arrested and Bollo spent a full solid week in prison.

  When Bollo was released from prison he was utterly spent.

  And that was when he met Jon Kent.

  Kent found Bollo sitting outside the local drinking house - the Short Tailed Fox.  The clown was sitting near a table, one foot up on a stool, a dirty stinking smoke hanging out over his blue lips and beside him tin of a beer gripped by a quivering nervous hand.

  Yes!  That was him.  That was the clown.

  Bollo was a man who was fully broken and yet somehow he was better for it.  He was a man who accepted his own defeat.  He didn't fight it.  He just knew what he was...  or more precisely what he wasn't.  And Kent saw this right away and respected the clown for it.

  Kent introduced himself right away, throwing his name out and after that his hand.  The two men shook and sat and ordered drinks.  Bollo offered Kent a smoke, and Kent accepted - he slipped one out and started puffing on it with the eagerness of a cat with a tin of cream.

  'It is good to see you alive and well, Bollo,' said Kent puffing out a full sized cloud of grey smoke and blowing it over in the direction of the broken and derelict clown.  'I remember watching you as a kid back in the day, with all those tricks you used to do!  I used to love watching you.  Especially when you started spraying us with all that water and then apologising afterwards, telling us you thought we were a bunch of dirty windows!'

  'That is my favourite trick,' Bollo replied, and then the clown fell solemn.  'But people these days are so serious...  They don't enjoy my tricks not anymore.  I sprayed a man in the face the other week.  It was only water.  I explained I thought he was a window in need of a good darn cleaning - that I was just doing my duty as a citizen of the town keeping the place tidy and all that.  Well this man had been locked up for a whole week!'

  'Damn!  That's rough!  So you actually went to prison?'

  'Yep!  Locked up with the lads!  They gave me a hell of a time inside there.  This one lad told me I used to bully him at school, though I can't remember it I told him he had confused me with another clown...'

  'O!  Maybe it was Billy the Green Clown?' said Kent.

  'That's the one I am sure,' Bollo returned.  'I said to this lad, I told him, it was Billy the Green Clown who used to bully him.  But this lad wouldn't listen to me no sir.  Instead he flushed my head down a toilet.  And then after that he tied me up by my legs and beat me freely.'

  'Damn you have had it rough!  It ain't right, Bollo.  You are a good man!  You deserve a break.'

  'All I wanted was to have some fun in my life,' Bollo replied weakly.  'I just like spraying people with water!  What's wrong with that?'

  'Nothing wrong with it at all, my son,' said Kent.  'You should be allowed to do what you do.'

  Bollo lit another dirty smoke...   'At the end of the day I am not bothering people.  I just like cleaning windows!  Ah wait!  There is another window over there.  Better get to work...'  

  A very posh looking business lady holding a briefcase was walking down the road.  She was returning home from work.  As Soon as Bollo saw her he jumped up and ran right over.  When he finally got within range of the women the clown started spraying her with water.  The business lady responded by kicking Bollo fully in the crotch before stalking away raising her phone to her ear possibly making a little tinkle to the police.

  It would take twenty minutes for Bollo to recover from this incident.

  Kent had to help the clown climb back into his chair.

  'You see that?  You see what she did to me?  This is what I am talking about.  I try to do a good deed and that is how I get repaid,' said Bollo sadly.  'Why can't I be left to clean windows in peace?' 

  'I don't have an answer for that, Bollo I am sorry.  I wish I could be more helpful to you,' said Kent.  'But ah well, such is life...  Life is tough sometimes, yep.  Life can be tough as old shoes!'

  'Or old socks,' said the clown.

  Kent heard this and chuckled.

  'Everything started to go bad for me twenty years ago,' Bollo went on.  'I used to be this really popular character in town back in the day and then BOOM!  Everything just started to go wrong - like dominos falling down you know what I mean?  It was like I had stepped from one universe into another.  Nothing made sense to me anymore.  I married this strange witch-like woman.  She brought me down good and proper.  She took everything I had as well.  I think she put a spell on me you know?'

  'Sounds bad!  At least these days you are free from that nonsense, right?'

  'Right.  Since she divorced me and left on on the streets I started writing all these songs,' said Bollo.  'Do you want to hear one of my songs, Kent?  Let me sing you the best song I have ever written.'

  'Go for it!  I am all ears!' said Kent.

  So Bollo sang his song.  It went like this:

I don't trust dogs...

DU DU DU DU DU

I don't trust dogs!

DU DU DU DU DU

O no!  I don't trust dogs!

DU DU DU DU DU

I say I don't trust dogs...

DU DU DU DU DU

O no sir I don't trust dogs

(But I trust badgers)

DU DU DU DU DU

I just don't trust dogs,

Dong trust dogs,

No sir I don't trust dogs!

DU DU DU DU DU

'What a brilliant song!' said Kent clapping his hands.  'What is the song called?'

  'Have a guess!'

  'I can't imagine!'

  And so Bollo told him, 'I call that song:  A swift walk among the wild ways of the road on a summer day - o!   With a summer breeze flowing with ease in my hair, & with the soft grassy ground of the fields beneath my feet O please summer breeze please!  Ease the heaviness in  my old heart and lift the lightness the light that sparkles in every corner every memory every scar woven into my soul lift it with ease so that my heaviness might float away with the breeze.'

  'That's a great name for a song,' said Kent.  'It gives the listener a good idea about what they are getting into when they attempt to embrace your wonderful and refined music.'

  'I agree,' Bollo replied.  'My music is all that I have since the divorce, since my old witch-like wife took my beloved unicycle away from me.  I loved that unicycle you know?  Sometimes I think I should have just married the unicycle instead.  At least the damn thing kept quiet.'

  'You've had it hard, Bollo mate.  That divorce sounds truly rough.  But there is a silver lining to all of it at the end,' said Kent.  

  'O really?  Enlighten me?' said Bollo.

  'You discovered your passion,' Kent returned softly.  'You have discovered what you are really all about in life - you are a song writer with a golden tongue!'

  'Thanks a lot Kent!  You are a true mate!  I have enjoyed today.  Hey!  Let me make you a brew.  A nice hot cup of tea?  What do you say?' said Bollo.

  'I would love that,' said Kent.  'Bring it on!  Bring on that cup of tea!'

  'Okay!  This is going to be a very rich cup of tea.  The sort of tea that only a clown can make,' said Bollo.  

  'I am looking forward to it,' said Kent.

  Bollo left for a few minutes and returned holding a large and full cup of tea.  He starts to hand the cup over to Kent, but in the last second pulls the cup back.  What was this?  Some kind of clown's trick?  

  'O wait!' said Bollo.  'There is something I forgot to do before I serve you!'

  And that was when Bollo took off his shoe and dunked his dirty greasy sock right into the cup of tea.  'There you go, Kent my friend!  You can drink it now!'

  Kent thought Bollo was joking, clowning around as it were, and returned with a laugh.  'I am not drinking that,' he said.  'It's got a dirty old sock in it!'

  'That is my special sock that is,' said Bollo.  'I haven't washed it in twenty years!'

  'And that is why I am not drinking that cup of tea,' said Kent.

  'You will drink that tea or I will take offence to you!' Bollo bellowed.

  The clown sounded serious...

  'Please tell me this is a joke?' said Kent with a quiver of fear in his voice.

  'I never joke about socks and tea!  Now drink!' said Bollo.  It really sounded like he was trying to intimidate Kent.  'I want every drop of this richly refined grease tea down your throat by the end of the day!  Do you hear?  Drink!  DRINK!'  Bollo started to lose his temper and he screamed once again out loud for ALL to hear:  DRINK!

  'I can't drink this tea, Bollo.  It has got a twenty year old unwashed sock in it.  I will end up killing myself if I drink this!' said Kent.

  'If you do not drink the tea of your own free will then I will have to grab you and force the tea into your guts!' cried Bollo.  'Now drink it up!  I want to see you enjoy it!  Do you hear me boy?  I want you to ENJOY this tea!'

  'Don't do this to me Bollo!  I beg you!  I thought we were friends!'

  'I thought you were a friend as well, until you freely rejected this special cup of grease enriched tea I have tenderly prepared for you!' the clown roared on and now Bollo was really starting to sound like a pure and true lunatic!  

  Kent was in a fix and he needed an escape route, fast.  The clown was clearly going out of his mind and Kent couldn't cope with all this nonsense about tea and socks.  Kent had a life to lead.  He had work to attend in the morning.  He couldn't get himself ill drinking sock enriched tea!  NO!  He started looking left and right: "There has got to be a way for me to get out of this!"

  'I can see that you are planning to make a run for it,' said Bollo to Kent.  'It won't do you no good, lad.  I will just follow you.  No matter where you go, I will be there, an inch or so away, or in fact in the way of your shadow.  So let's end this business between us now and drink up your tea!'

  'Please don't make me do this, Bollo!  I can't cope!  I am begging you as a fellow human being don't do this!' said Kent.

  Kent couldn't handle it no more.  He sprang up and started to make a run for it!  

  RUN RUN!  Run as fast as you can!  From a distance you might have confused Kent for the gingerbread man!

  But it was no good.  No matter how fast his feet carried him the clown Bollo was still only still feet away - the clown always seemed to just keep within a good distance of Kent, like Kent just couldn't shake the crazy clown off.

  But Kent kept going, turning this way and that.  But every time he looked back there was the clown holding a cup of tea with a sock in it chasing him!

  Kent could not escape that clown!

  Kent was not a fighting man no.  Kent was more of a lover than a fighter.  But he knew in that moment that he had to stand his ground against the clown.  And so he did.  He managed to grab the clown, being the younger larger stronger guy he was able to tip the clown over off of his feet.  Then Kent grabbed the tea cup and emptied it onto the street and he threw the cup and the sock as well into the nearest bin.  

  Then Kent ran for it again.

  This time Kent succeeded in escaping the clown...

Kent had nightmares that night.  He kept on seeing the clown in his dreams chasing him with socks in his tea cup!

  It was awful.

  But at least it was over...

  Right?

  No more clown business!
  'I shall not be speaking to random clowns ever again,' said Kent as he got ready to start the morning.  

  He heard a sound downstairs somebody had put something through his letter box so he went down to have a look at what it was...

  And to his horror he saw a soggy socks on the floor!  On one of the socks there were these words written with red paint:  I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN!

  Kent had to sneak out of the back door in case Bollo was waiting for him in the front yard.

  Kent didn't know what to do.

  The clown called Bollo was homeless and knew every street.  He could be watching from any corner, any nook and any shadow...

  In a state of horrible anxiety Kent finally sought the help of the police.

  Constable Maddox was happy to hear Kent's story in his office.

  'You said you wanted to speak to me about a certain clown with blue hair?' said Constable Maddox.

  'Yes!  It's Bollo the blue clown,' said Kent.

  'Ah yes!  Him...  He's he been up to mischief again, right?  That old clown is such a fool!  I arrested him last week.  I thought a stint in jail might have straightened the freak out, but not so it seems.  So what has he been up to this time?  Washing you like a window I guess?'

  'No sir,' said Kent.  'It's worse than that.  He has been trying to force me to drink a cup of tea with a sock in it!  This morning a sock was put through my letter box!  I have never been so scared!'

  'Yes.  This sounds really bad.  I am sorry for you,' said Maddox calmly and he started to brush his chin - the man looked like he was in deep thought.  'We dealt with a case like this before a few years ago,' Maddox returned.  'This isn't the first time Bollo has needlessly harassed a member of the public with a pair of socks...'

  'Is there nothing you can do about the man?'

  'Bollo is a tricky fish to deal with,' Maddox replied.  'You see he is clever in a mad sort of way.  He knows how to sail just above the wide curtain of the law - he knows what kind of crimes he can commit and get away with.  He might not seem to be very sharp, our boy Bollo, but he knows what he is doing.  The last time I got him it was because he assaulted the exchequer of the council.  You see that is how it is.  Bollo needs to attack someone official.  That is the only way I can reel him in.  It's a sad business, but there is nothing I can do to help you right now!'

  'Are you being serious?  Are you really trying to tell me that I am going to be harassed by a clown and his dirty socks forever?'  

  'Listen son.  There is only one option left for you as far as I can see,' Maddox continued calmly.  'You are going to have to leave the country.  There is a train leaving this afternoon for the UK.  I will pay and you can get out.  What say you?  Different country?  Fresh start?  No clowns following you?  Sounds good to me.  I know I would take up my offer - especially if I was in your shoes.'

  'Fine then!  If you are paying then I will get that train.  Thank you Constable.  I do have relatives in UK so I will stay with them for a while until I get things sorted out.'

  'Good man!' said Constable Maddox.  'Now then, before you leave do you fancy a cup of tea?'

  'That's not funny Constable!' Kent returned coldly.

  The very thought of tea just made Kent shudder - which is really sad because Kent did used to love tea so much!

  Constable Maddox slapped Kent on the shoulder and started to chuckle.  'Alright son!  Let's get that train and see to getting you out of this country!'

 

Kent was on the first train out of town...

  He finally felt safe.

  He was free of the clown!

  Kent was looking out of the window watching the rocking mellow green countryside go sliding by:

  New life and new home at the end of these wheels.  Go wheels!  Go wheels!  Take me home!

Perfect!

Kent closed his eyes.

It was time for a nap he had a lot of sleep to catch up on.

Kent was about to drift off when he heard a mad little voice crackling in his ear...

And the voice said:

Fancy a cup of tea with a sock in it boy!

  THE END

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

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

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT 

JIM'S SUBWAY

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The Legend of Rudwin BOOK

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

A Cat Named Spat!

I shall tell you of a cat that was called Spat...

April 12 1934

To my dearly beloved Joanne,

  My stay in Fenwick as been littered daily with joy!  The sun has been full and marvellous during the day and business has been good from morn till noon!  There has not been a day that has gone by without something magical taking place!  These have been my happiest days, and they would have been even happier if you had been with me!  In fact it has been the loneliness that has served as my greatest enemy since I arrived on the island, but I feel now that I have found the means by which I might thwart its empty tendrils...

  I have purchased myself a companion - a cat in fact.  I cat who I have fondly named Spat...  I hope to introduce him to you one day, maybe when you visit me next!

  Your Beloved

  William 

April 21 1934

To my dearly beloved William, 

  Your letter was a delight for my eyes to read!  I am so happy that you are enjoying your time in Fenwick!  I am most pleased to hear that business has been going well.  A cat you say?  How wonderful.  Cats make for marvellous companions.  I steadfast agree with your choice of name - Spat.  Most noble.  Very catchy.  Very cat-like.  I am looking forward to meeting Spat.  And you of course, when I visit you next year.

  Best wishes to you my love!

  Joanne

April 29 1934

  To the wonderful Joanne,

  Yes business is going very well!  It seems that the people of Fenwick cannot get enough of crabs!  I have never seen so many of the crawling things - and seals as well by the dozen.  Seals can be quite frightening animals up close.  They are very curious beasts!  These blubbery interlopers often interfere with our work - but we have a warden armed with a stick to keep them at bay!  We must work fast.  Each shipment of crabs must be brought in, salted and packed before night.  If the work is not done by nightfall then the seals will find a way into our storage unit and eat our quarry!  I never thought seals could be such a nuisance but well, there you go!  I don't think they have these kinds of troubles back in old blighty, but then what do I know?  I am new to this business!  But I do know there is more money to be made from crabs here in Fenwick then there is back home...  The French want them.  The Brits want them.  The Irish want them.  The Brazilians want them!  O yes Fenwick is indeed crab country.  And of course Spat has been a delight!  My new friend is a true wonder!  Very homely.  Very friendly.  Never goes outside...  A very curious cat!  Anyway that is all I have to say today my love.  Looking forward to seeing you soon.

  All my love,

  William.

May 5th 1934

  To my dearest most gentle William,

I cannot wait to meet Spat!  He sounds adorable.  A homely cat?  So strange.  Most cats enjoy adventures in the great outdoors.  At least you do not have to keep a look out for him!  I must  once again commend you on your choice of name for the creature...  Spat!  Such a lovely name, so noble, so refined.  I love it.  Marvellous!  You really know what you are doing don't you dear William?  It must be a TRUE privilege to have a cat called Spat!

  Ever yours,

  Joanne.

May 17th 1934

  To Joanne my truest love,

  I write now with hatred in my hand!  It is that darn cat called Spat!  Wretched cat.  A deep darkness has been developing in my heart against that fiend!  He truly is a wretch.  Strange things started happening between the cat and I two weeks ago.  Whenever I came home from work I would find the cat sleeping in my chair.  ALWAYS sleeping in my chair!  A cat should know better!  I would order it to move, and it would NOT move.  It attacked me one night while I was asleep, but that is NOT the worst of it...

  It has started talking to me, Joanne...  Yes!  Speaking to me in English!  It torments me day as well as night.  It haunts me in my nightmares.  The cat says strange things to me when I am awake and when I am asleep...  O if it was not for your loyalty and love Joanne I would not be able to cope with this new horror in my life!

  Please help save me from that wretched cat called Spat!

  Your forlorn and weary love,

  William.

May 25th 1934

  To William the crab farmer,

  I am sad to hear that you are having such trouble with your cat, Spat.  I wish I could help you!  It would appear that your pet has become a pest!  I am sad for you.  Do not despair.  I am sure, in time, that your kindness and good nature will flow into the cat - and again, with time, and with enough time basking in your presence, Spat will learn to respect you and will grow to become a most noble companion to you!  Give it time, my love.  The cat named Spat will find a way.

  I love you deeply, and I am sure Spat does too,

  Joanne.

June 5th 1934

  My dearly beloved Joanne,

  I fear that this latest letter will be my last letter!

  The horror of that cat continues to grow worse...

  The cat haunts me...  each night it haunts me.  It has become a ghost out of a nightmare.  It claws at me.  It keeps me awake at night.  It cries - it always cries.  Such horrible sounds it delivers to my ears.  That cat is a foul thing.  And it torments me with its words - every syllable it utters through its whiskers is a terror to me...  'I am watching you,' it says.  'My eyes are on you ever on you!'  When I wake up from sleep the cat is watching me - 'I am watching you,' he says.  He locked the door on my once when I was returning from work.  I don't know how he did it but he did.  I had to climb through the window and he was there, waiting on my chair, waiting for me.  'I am always watching you,' he said.  'I can never stop watching you!'  One night I locked myself in the attic.  I thought it was the safest place to be.  But somehow the cat found his way to me.   'I am watching you.  I am always watching you!'

  I am lost and without hope.  These may be my last days.

  Your love,

  William.

June 17th 1934

  To my generous father,

  Today the will of my recently departed love William was read out to me.  Among the details of his will it read that I am to inherit his cat Spat.  But I cannot keep the wretched creature...  It stalks me in the night...  it speaks to me.  'I am watching you,' it says.  Father!  I am putting this foul cat in a bundle and I am sending him to you.  You have always been better with animals than I.  I am sorry but I cannot allow this evil creature anywhere near me!  I have been left deeply disturbed by my experiences with this cat...  I find the odious creature offensive.  I am ashamed to have ever been acquainted with the feline fiend.  If only I had the power to purge the creature from my memory!  I want it gone, do you hear?  I want it GONE!  

  Fare thee well dearest father.

  Your loyal daughter,

  Joanne.

June 29th 1934

  To my kind brother Phillip,

  I received an unpleasant and unwanted delivery this morning from my daughter Joanne.  I awoke to find a cat sitting on my doorstep.  At first I was delighted, I like cats, I thought how thoughtful it was of my daughter to ship me such a gift! 

  But the cat has turned out to be a foul villain!  It stalks me wherever I walk.  It is in my shadow at home and follows me to work!  It has attacked me thrice in the face - and it talks to me - it whispers to me in the night, 'I am watching you.'  I cannot cope with this feral beast!  So I am sending this cat called Spat to you, my brother, because I know you and your ways.  You are far better at dealing with rebellious animals than I ever was.  You are a natural man, a man of the country!  Good luck to you, my brother,

  Greg.

July 9th 1934

  To my brother Greg,

  That cat turned out to be a curious thing!  I could see that the creature had a rebel eye and a rebel look.  I took it upon myself as my mission to tame the beast.  I live in the woods and I washed the cat in a bowel of mud.  The cat took a great disdain to me after that, and tried to run away!  I brought the cat back.  Then I tried to feed it eggs.  It is all I have got to eat, my goose eggs.  But the cat wouldn't have it!  The cat appears to have developed a deep contempt for goose eggs - such a pity!  The cat also appears to be offended by the smell of my shoes, for whenever I put my shoes near the animal it screeches with horror!  I do not understand why, for I find the aroma of my shoes to be a rather pleasant one.  And let us not talk about my socks.  I never wash my sockets, I just put them outside and let the open air do its thing.  Once I put my socks next to the cat and the cat jumped into the air with horror!  One night, while preparing for bed, I took off my socks and threw them in the air.  I was aiming for the window, but through the workings of some impossible misfortune they missed the window and landed directly on top of the cats head!  It ran away again and I have never been able to find the creature since.

  And so that is the end of that - that cat called Spat!

  Your brother,

  Phillip.

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

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

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT 

JIM'S SUBWAY

THE BEST VIDEO GAME

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

Also take a look at:

My Games

Play Give 'em Hell!

Play Elfin Quest

Play Witches Brew

Play A King For A Day

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My Books

Dancing In The Fields Of The Mind

The Legend of Rudwin BOOK

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

Of Rabbits and Men

 Of Rabbits and Men

Most men in town seek work.  Most men in town see drink - shelter - food...

  A life.

  But there was one man who sought none of this...

  The only thing he wanted was paper...

  Why?

  He wanted paper because he wanted something to nibble on...

  This man was called Ben.

  He was thirty years old as of the year of our lord 2025, and he slept in the back yard among the cabbages.

  His parents couldn't have him in the house anymore...

  His father hated him.  His mother loathed him.  His brother despised him, and his sister feared him...

  Why was Ben the bane of his family?
  It was because Ben truly believed in his heart that he was a rabbit.

  TRULY.

  NO joke.

  NO acting was going on - Ben really thought he was a bunny.

  And it wasn't funny!

  He lost everything.

  From the day he was cranked into the world by his mother it was obvious that Ben was not a normal boy.  From the moment he could engage his limbs he began adopting bizarre animalistic traits.  He would bounce about the house where he lived, bounce like a beast... or maybe like a rabbit?

  When Ben learned how to speak he would say strange things to his folks...

  He used to tell his people that he could understand the language of rabbits, that he could speak to rabbits and that rabbits made more sense to him as living beings than actual human beings.  'I feel a deep connection with rabbits,' he said one day to his folks.  Ben wasn't being funny.  He meant it with all his heart.  He meant it like the trees mean it when their branches sway in the breeze...

  His folks were shocked - horrified.  They did not know what to say or what to do.

  What could they do?  

  Their son and heir behaved like a rabbit and that was that.

  And they were stuck with him because he was there son.

  Stories of Ben and his outlandish animalistic antics started to spread.  Ben grew to become deeply unpopular with the locals living in town.

  There were protests.  People started ganging together:  "Arrest the rabbit man!" they would say.  "Lock him up with the other beasts!"

  When Ben reached adulthood he was the talk on every lip...

  Why is he unemployed?

  What does he do for a living?

  Why hasn't he grown out of these strange rabbit-like ways?

  He is an adult he needs to take responsibility!

  Would you employ him?  Would you give him a job?
  Employ a rabbit?  No way!  Call the RSPCA that's what I say!

A couple of local lads were in the pub watching the game - Cardiff V Dublin - but all of the talk was about the rabbit man.

  The talk ran like this:

Old Man:  I am hedging my bets on Cardiff.

Even Older Man:  Best team in the world!

Old Man:  I want to enjoy my pint and the game...  I really do...  But I can't stop thinking about that awful man who lives up the road...

Even Older Man:  Do you mean that odd chap who can't stopping acting like an old rabbit?

Old Man:  The very one!  

Even Older Man:  He is an odd eh?

Old Man:  To odd for even the average odd and definitely too odd for my liking.  

Even Older Man:  He is a bizarre rabbit-like man indeed.  

Old Man:  I hear you.  I just don't like it.  This is a strange town and I have seen a lot of strange things but this rabbit-man it's just too much.  Something has to be done about it.  Men can't go round acting like that!  No sir.  A man has got to roll up his sleeves and work.  A man like that is a burden to his parents.  No parent wants to give birth to a burden.  A child is supposed to provide, help the family to grow.  How can a child contribute anything to the family when they sleep among cabbages and eat grass?  No sir.  Something has got to be done.  He needs shaping up that boy.  He needs putting into the army.  Discipline, that is what is lacking in that boys life.  You would not have seen such things as this, people acting like rabbits, no not in my day.  In my day times were hard.  You knew your place.  My grandfather was part of the resistance during the war and he was not afraid to use his fists.  I will admit there was a little portion of my life where I thought I was a squirrel, but my grandfather beat that nonsense out of me clean.  And that is why now as a man I don't mind getting myself all dirty fishing for crabs.

Even Older Man:  Fancy a smoke?

Old Man:  I think so.  I need one to calm my nerves, thanks.  Thinking about that rabbit-like man gets me all worked up.

  

And so ended the conversation between the two old men...

***

Ben was not the only man who believed that he was a beast of the wild.

  There used to be a man called Jim Lo who thought himself a hippo.

  Governor Krogar had a scheme for men like this...  "Arrest them and make them disappear."

  Krogar's strategy was simple:  setup a crime scene and frame the individual he wanted gone.

  And that is what happened to Jim Lo - the hippo, and now Krogar wanted the same thing to happen to Ben.

  Everything was fine as long as Ben kept quiet...  But Ben didn't help himself.

  His rabbit-like ways were steadfastly getting out of control!

  He started jumping on people...

  One unfortunate day, while feasting on hay, Ben went crazy and started jumping on random people.  One of those people he bounced on was none other than Diane Heathrow, an retired school teacher and well liked by all.  She fell unconscious after Ben jumped on her.  It was a terrible scene.  Diane turned out to be completely fine in the end, but the police planted the seed and spread the word.  In all the papers and all the other nooks and crannies where people sit and read the word was that Diane had been murdered by the rabbit man.

  The next day Ben was arrested, taken to a cell and interrogated by Krogar's right hand man, the ruthless Constable Maddox.

  And so the interrogation of Ben began with gusto and glee, with Maddox leading the charge.  This is how the talk flowed:

Maddox:  You know what this is about don't you Ben?  You have been acting too much like a rabbit haven't you?

Ben:  But I...  I am a rabbit...

Maddox:  I would like you to read this report.  It concerns your recent rabbit-like behaviour.

(Ben takes the report and starts nibbling on it!)

Ben:  Mmmm thank you!  I love paper!  It is my favourite food, alongside grass and moss of course!  

Maddox:  Would you like a cup of water?

  

Ben:  No thank you.  I drink water from the dew in grass and moss...

Maddox:  Would you like a smoke?

  

Ben:  Yes please!  (Ben eats the smoke!)  Mmmm tastes like paper!  Thank you!

Maddox:  You have got to stop acting like this - Ben.  You have got quite the reputation in town, and not of the good kind either.  The thing is, Ben, I actually do like you.  NO.  What I meant to say is I respect you.  You are a man who knows what he wants to be in life.  You want to be a rabbit, and you are not afraid to be a rabbit either.  You are not ashamed or embarrassed to make a fool of yourself in public.  There are some people out there that might even call you courageous.  These days it is hard to be what you want to be.  There is so much against you.  People living in town they want everything to be nice and smooth.  They don't like anything that affects business.  In Fenwick people like people who roll up their sleeves and work.  That is how it is and has always has been in this town.  This town stands on the shoulders of farmers, fishermen and warriors.  There are still veterans of the Second World War living out there in the various corners of town and they pass down their knowledge of the hard times - they keep the old ways alive.  They don't like to see people lounging about and acting like fools.  It's not the Fenwick way.  So when people see you frolicking around like a fool people take offence to it.  Real bad offence in fact.  I will be honest with you Ben, there are people in this town who want you gone.  In the old days we would have shipped you to the UK, but the new governor has a new way of dealing with things.  He wants me to make you disappear - and when I say disappear I mean I make a phone call to the RSPCA and they put you down as one very large and sick rabbit - which they will do.  They did it before to a man who proclaimed to be a hippo.  They will snuff out a sick rabbit in a heartbeat.  I don't want that to happen to you, Ben.  Help me help you.  Confess to the murder of Diane Heathrow and you will spend seven years in a prison cell and I will make sure you are okay.  I will look after you.  I will make sure none of the lads gang up on you.  You will be safe.  All that you have to do is make a little confession - sign this paper...  NO!  Don't eat it!  Sign it.  That's right... sign just here on the line.  It is for the best, Ben.  Once you are in a prison cell no one will be able to trouble you ever again.  And guess what the best thing is?  You can carry on pretending you are a rabbit and no one will know or say anything about it.  You will be free.

Ben:  Pretend to be a rabbit?  But I am a rabbit!  A real rabbit!

Maddox:  Stop it Ben!  I am trying to help you here!

Ben:  The rabbits will save me!  You will never take me...  There are rabbits out there...  Rabbits in spaceships!  Rabbits from beyond the deepest reaches of space!

Just then the power turned off!  When the power came back on Ben was gone.  His chair where he was sitting was now completely empty - and the door leading back outside was now fully open.  Panicking and very much afraid Maddox rushed out through the door and out into the courtyard to just catch in time a glimpse of a saucer-shaped flying object disappearing into the sky...

  There was an officer standing nearby.  Maddox turned and said to him:

  'Don't say anything about this to anybody, do you hear me?'

  'Don't you worry mate!  I ain't saying anything!' he replied with a weak and quivering voice.  'But I tell you what I am going to do - I am going to stop drinking washing conditioner that is for certain!'

THE END

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

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

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT 

JIM'S SUBWAY

THE BEST VIDEO GAME

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Also take a look at:

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A King For A Day

 Here it is!  A King For A Day!  Hooray!

  Now if you decide you are brave enough to decide to play this little historical game then I congratulate you - go into this little project of mine with LOW expectations, or preferably NO expectations!  My game is NOT going to change the gaming industry - it is NOTHING like Total War or Crusader kings, sorry.  

  I drew a lot of inspiration from other games before I started building A King For A Day.

  I love the medieval strategy and adventure games of yore.  Here is a little list of my favourites:

Lords of the Realm

Lords of the Realm 2

Conqueror A.D. 1086

Kingmaker

Quest for the Longbow

Castles

Conquests of Camelot:  The Search for the Grail

Defender of the Crown

I remember waiting years for Lords of the realm 3 to finally release...

  O yes!  I remember that one...

  There is a reason IT did not make it on the list.

  Lords of the Realm fans reading this will know what I mean...

  WHAT WERE THEY THINKING!!??

Anyway, I think I might have told this little story before in another post - but I used to play this game on my old DOS based PC called - Grail Quest.  It is a text based adventure game where you play as Percival charged by King Arthur with a quest to seek the Holy Grail.  Grail Quest is a very old school style adventure game.  You move around different scenes of medieval Britain, looking for items, speaking to people, solving puzzles.  

  I used to love all the little scenes of Britain as you moved around, most of them were rendered photographs of real locations, like Stonehenge, and the Tower of London.

  It got my imagination fired up I tell you!

  I used to think to myself:  "Wouldn't it be great if I was the King in this game, marching around Britain collecting resources and fighting battles?  O yes that would be great!  And I could have my own castle and manage things...  Marvellous stuff!  It is good to be the king!"

  And so all these years later I went ahead and built that game and here it is:

A King For A Day V1.0 is available and playable here by clicking the image below:

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

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:
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Dancing In The Fields Of The Mind

The Legend of Rudwin BOOK

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

Throwing Stones

 There are three epic characters in this story with amazing names:

Phil

Bob

Steve

Let me introduce you to...

THROWING STONES

Let us begin...

Phil and Bob were having a nice chat in the park:

  'Have you ever hated somebody SO much you just wanted to kill them? said Phil.

  Bob thought his friend was joking and so he decided just to go along with the flow of the conversation.

  'O yes!  Of course!  Plenty of times!'  

  'What would you say if I told you that I have found a way to kill someone without anybody ever knowing about it?'

  'I would say that was still illegal.  Now how about we change the conversation?

  'I am being serious here Bob.'

  'That is what is worrying me,' Bob replied.

  'Will you not at least hear me out?' Phil pushed on.

  'Well...  If I must,' Bob replied hesitantly.

  It was time for Bob to hear what Phil had to say.

  And so Phil started:

  'I know of a way to kill someone and get away with it!  I was standing by the train crossing, you know the place?  It's where that annoying barrier comes down whenever there is a train on the way and you have to stand for ten minutes usually, sometimes fifteen sometimes twenty even!  Well one day I was standing by the barrier, twiddling my thumbs, when in my boredom I picked up a stray stone and chucked it at a passing train.  I managed to hit the train in a certain way that the stone skimmed off of the side of the train and bounced back really fast at an angle and knocked down the person standing across the road from me.  The stone knocked that person right in the head and later that day that person died.  The police looked into the scene but there was nothing that they could do against me.  I mean really?  What could they do?  I was just tossing stones about and that ain't a crime.  So that person died and I got away with it.  Fine.  I felt bad of course.  But it was an accident and the police knew it.  When I got home I drank some coffee, sipped a little whiskey, and then I got to thinking about that train and that stone I threw.  And I thought to myself, could I do it again?  Could I fire that stone in such a way I could kill another man and survive the wrath of the law?  But I did not want to kill at random.  That other chap I knocked down with the stone?  I didn't know him.  I didn't want him to die.  But there was someone who I did want dead.  A cocky young runt who owed me money.  He was called Ted.'

  'Ted?  No!  Not Ted Hill?'

  'The same,' Phil responded with a chill in his voice.  'It is because of me that Ted is dead!'

  'My gosh!  You killed him in the same way as that other chap?'

  'That's right.  I just tossed a stone...  I invited Ted for a walk.  I walked with him from the shop.  I listened to him speak.  He always liked to talk rubbish, talk big like he is the man - you know what I mean?  O how I hated him he was a liar and a scoundrel.  I was determined to make him pay.  So we stopped at the train stop and we waited fifteen minutes and when the train finally came along I knew it was time to do what I had to do.  I picked up a stone and threw it at a certain angle, in a certain way that the stone skimmed off of the side of the train and bounced back and knocked Ted in the head.  He dropped down like a log and died like a dog!  And that was the end of Ted.  And like before there was nothing the police could do.  It was an accident!  How can the law arrest a man for tossing a stone?'

  Bob was shaking with horror.  'I know Ted was an irritant, but you killed him?  You... murdered that man!  This is terrible Phil!  Why are you telling me this?'

  'Because I am your friend,' Phil replied.  

  'I don't think so!  Not anymore.  How could you do something so terrible, Phil?  Damn!  I thought I knew you!  You were supposed to be my mate!  We used to go fishing together.  And yet here you are confessing to murder like butter wouldn't melt!  You disgust me Phil!  I never want to speak to you ever again!'

  Bob walked away and Phil was left alone with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  

  Phil smoked a lot lately.

  His fingers shook every time he lit a smoke...

Guilty conscience mehap?

'Nay not me!' said Phil to himself.  'I might pop by the Short Tailed Fox and fetch me a drink to celebrate the end of Ted who is dead!'

  Phil stalked into the pub like a man on a mission.

  He ordered himself a pint of the local Fenwick bitter.

  As he was enjoying his pint a strange stranger joined him at the table.

  'They call me Steve,' said the stranger.

  'Like I wanted to know,' Phil replied unpleasantly.  

  Phil wanted to be left alone and to get drunk.  He did not have time for small talk that day.

  He was still thinking about Ted and about how neatly he skimmed that stone on the side of the train.  

  Two stones.

  Two dead men.

  And one man called Phil who claimed them all.

  

I could kill again.  Who would stop me?  But who should I kill?

Phil started to lose his temper.  'Look!  There are plenty of tables everywhere.  Please sit somewhere else!  I am trying to enjoy my drink!'

  'Ted used to enjoy a drink,' said Steve.  'Shame he isn't here, hey?'

  'I don't want to talk about it.  Leave me be.'

  'I hear Ted owed you money?'

  'What business is it of yours?'

  'Here is the money he owed you,' and Steve placed the paper on the table.  'There.  Now all debts are amended and done.  The shadow between and Ted has been expunged and now the threads that had been torn between you two have been resown.  Marvellous what a bit of paper can solve, eh?'

  Phil scraped the money into his pocket and ordered another drink.  

  With a fresh drink in hand Phil moved to another table but Steve, undeterred, moved over to join him.

  'What is your problem?' said Phil.

  'I just like talking to you,' said Steve.

  'Well I am not in a talking mood,' Phil replied coldly.

  'I want to talk about you and Ted.  Were you two friends?'

  'Yes.  Sort of.  I knew him from work.'

  'Did you two get along well?'

  'I guess so.  As well as well can do, I guess.'

  'Did you like him?'

  'No.  I hated him.  Does that answer your question?  Good!  Now go away.  I have got work in the morning and those crabs don't pick themselves.'

  'You work in the crab factory?'

  'Like pretty much everyone else in this town.  Yep.  I work for the Kings.  What of it?'

  'You like your job?'

  'It's a job.  That is all it is.'

  'Ted worked with you.  He loved the crab factory.  He was unemployed for five years and was so happy when he got that job.  Time to make some money.  He had been through hard times our Ted.  Nasty divorce.  Lost his home.  Credit cards...  owed a lot of money to a lot of different folk.  Nasty business...  Drinking problem to boot.  He wasn't allowed to see his children either.  It was hard times for our Ted.  But hey, now his dead right?  Now the nightmare of life is over for Ted.'

  'I really do not want to talk about this!  I need you to realise that this conversation is making me feel very uncomfortable,' Phil replied harshly and he almost spilt his drink.  'I am a busy man with a lot to do and I need to get to bed...'

  'Of course.  I understand.  Ted used to be very busy too, back when he was alive.  Your name is Phil, right?  Phil.  Indulge an old man and walk me home will you?'

  Fine.

  Phil agreed to walk Steve home.

  So off they went, out of the pub and down the road.

  They walked in silence.

  Eventually they met the train crossing.  The barrier was down, of course...  another train was on its way.

  It was time to stand and wait.  Wait for he train.  Phil checked his watch.  

  One minute.

  Two.

  Five minutes...

  Damn it!  "Lift barrier lift!  Why won't you lift?"

  The barrier would not lift.

  Another train went by.

  Ten minutes.

  Twelve.

  'Ted was my boy,' said Steve suddenly.  'He was my son and heir and I loved him dearly.'

  What?

  There was another train on its way.

  Phil lost his nerve with Steve and grabbed a stray stone.  But just as he threw it Steve nudged Phil's arm so that this time the stone hit the train at the wrong angle - this time gravity sent the stone bouncing right back at Phil's head - killing him dead.

  Steve looked at the stricken body and shrugged his shoulders.

  'O well,' he said.  'It was just an accident!'

  The barrier finally lifted and Steve walked away.

  

THE END

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

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

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT 

JIM'S SUBWAY

THE BEST VIDEO GAME

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

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

Dancing In The Fields Of The Mind

The Legend of Rudwin BOOK

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW

WORLD CUP 2026: Channel Island Match

A small island in the English Channel called Fenwick is about to participate in the World Cup...

There was a conversation going on between two local lads at the local pub, The Short Tailed Fox, and it ran thus:

Dave:  Damn!  I can't believe Wales didn't qualify for the World Cup!  Something isn't right!  

Bob:  I agree.  It is a disgrace!

Dave:  It's a conspiracy!  I have seen Wales play many times, they are the best for sure!  I will tell you something and this is true - you put a couple of those Cardiff boys on the field and they would take the world by storm!  

Bob:  Of course!

Dave:  Cardiff is one of the best teams out there.  I just don't get it!  I just don't understand why they never get a chance at the beautiful game.

Bob:  The world is a very unfair place I am sad to say.

Dave:  I have lived here in Fenwick for about twenty years, but I was born and grew up in Wales.  So there is Welsh blood in my veins, you see, that is why I am so passionate about the country.  I tell you Bob one of these days my boys from Cardiff will have a chance to kick for their country and win the game in the face of all the world.  Everyone will know that Cardiff is the one.

Bob:  I can't wait.

Dave:  Ah!  A man can dream hey?  

Bob:  When one must one can.

Dave:  So who is Fenwick playing against tonight then?

Bob:  Uruguay 

Dave:  We are going to win aren't we?

Bob:  Of that I have NO doubt my friend!

Dave:  I have total faith in our new team manager, Ben Heath.  He is a good man.  He knows what he is doing.  He has a strategy to win the game.  Bless Ben Heath!  He is going to win the World Cup for us I know it.  This is our day, Bob.  The time has come for our country!  Fenwick will win the big game!

...And Bob echoes - "Fenwick will win!"

***

It's the night of the big game: Fenwick V Uruguay.

  Ben Heath's strategy to win is to play devils advocate...

  Ben gives his team some pep talk:

Ben Heath:  Alright lads!  Listen up!  This is what we are going to do!  We are going to play bad.  We are going to make the enemy think they are winning.  We will give them a couple of scores, and then in the last minute we take it ALL BACK.  They will think they are on top, but they won't know what's hit them in the final round!  Fenwick is going to win this.  Alright lads, let's do this!  REMEMBER!  Let 'em think they are winning, and in the end we will crush them.  Let's go!

***

The Match is OVER in under fifteen minutes.

The score:

Uruguay: 5

Fenwick: 0

During the game a local Fenwick lad hit the ball with his head so hard he got brain damage!

  It turned out to not be all that bad in the end because when he woke up he discovered that he had a new talent for music, specifically with the piano.  He would go onto write the most beautiful songs to touch the ears of humanity!  Wonderful stuff!  Such music as you cannot imagine - marvellous and flowing...

  In the years that followed this lad would eventually become known locally as the Beethoven of Fenwick.

THE END

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

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

IT HAPPENS AT NIGHT 

JIM'S SUBWAY

THE BEST VIDEO GAME

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

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

Dancing In The Fields Of The Mind

THE LEGEND OF RUDWIN REVIEW