What do you do when you mess up?

What do you do when you mess up?

What to do if you've ruined everything?

Go back go back go back?

Live in dreams

For in dreams we can find the past

And in the past we can change our dreams 

In the past we make dreams

And in the past we live

And create the future

We create the future

We create the future in the past...

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Jim's subway part 14 : Making Good of a BAD business

There was the train station, and standing just outside one of the little coffee shops was a face of an old friend.

  It was Jo of course!

  Jim hadn't seen the old drunkard in a long time!

  It warmed the cockles of his heart to see Jo's old familiar face.  It reminded him that even though he was trapped inside Fenwick, he was not that far from civilisation!

  They laughed, they shook hands, and then they started to talk.

  'So what brings you to Fenwick old friend?' said Jim

  'Well I didn't want to be here not rally,' Jo responded.  'It was forced to.  It happened during the night.  After we ran out of G-Juice I was forced to drink gin, and I drank myself to sleep.  Then I woke up on a train,  I had this bruiser to my head and it was nothing to do with the alcohol.  And there was this tall fellow sat next to me.  He was wearing a white coat.  The sight of him sent a chill right down through me.  But I was so ill with all the drinking that I couldn't move or even speak, so I didn't didn't ask any questions.  But I felt I had been abducted.  When I was last sober I was in the flat.  So someone had to of dragged me onto the train.  I can only guess it must have been the man in the white coat.  I don't think he was sitting next to me by pure coincidence.  And he had such a sinister look about him as well.'

  Jim told him the man in the white coat was Doctor Ivan Gustav.  

  'I have seen him as well he was hiding in the street behind the local pub.  He sent me here probably  to look for you?  Did he just drop you off?'

  Jo nodded and said he had only vacated the train an hour ago.  The man in the white coat had pulled him out of the cart with his own hands.

  'He just put me down on the side and walked away,' said Jo.  'I real mean fellow.'

  'Yes I agree,' Jim returned.  'There is definitely something quite off about him.  But he obviously brought you here for a reason.  He wants us to join forces.  Maybe he thinks we will be of some use to him in his operation, or whatever he is plan to do here in the city.  We will find out soon anyway.  He gave me this phone.  He said he will call me the next time he wants to talk.  So all we can do in the meantime is wait for the call.'

  'And what are we going td in the meantime?'

  'I suppose get something to drink.'

  'I haven't got no money,' said Jo.

  Jim admitted that he didn't have any money either.

  'Looks like we are going to have to beg,' said Jo.

  Jim agreed that begging was indeed the only way.

  As they set out on their adventure together as beggars they bumped into Tipsy Neat, who was hopping on one leg.  He told them he had left without his crutch, and had seven crumpled messages stuffed in his left shoe, hence the requirement for him to hop on his right.

  'No time to stop lads I've got lots of messages to deliver today!' 

  'I just need to ask you one question,' said Jim.

  Tipsy stopped hopping, then fell over onto his one side.  Jim and Jo had to stand him back up.

  'Already,' said Tipsy, trying to catch his breath back.  'Seeing as it is you I will hear you out!  Let loose the cannons!  My ears are ready for your words.'

  So Jim asked Tipsy where was the best place to go to beg for beer money.

  Tipsy needed a minute to think about it.  He removed his cap and scratched his thick greasy hair, and after some time shook his shoulders and said, 'There is simply no place better to serve a couple of beggars than Flint Street.  There is an old abandoned shed nearby.'

  Jim asked what was so important about the shed.

  'The shed marks the spot,' Tipsy returned.  'It's the place where beggars go discuss strategy!'

  Jim was confused after hearing this.  'How does begging involve strategy?'

  'Well it's one of the oldest professions in town,' Tipsy returned.  'You have got to understand the business before you can go ahead and get involved with it.  There is a complex set of rules all beggars must comply with.  You will learn these rules when you reach the shed.'

  'Look this sounds to complicated,' said Jim.  'My friend and I just need some money for drinks!'

  'And I need a new pair of socks but I ain't gonna get 'em for free!' Tipsy replied.  

  Jim fell quiet when he contemplated it.  It was true.  Tipsy had a point with that one.

  'Beggin is the only way to get things done in this town,' Tipsy went on.  'And if you won't to learn how to beg you must head down to the shed, at the end of old Flint Street.  There you will meet my old gaffer, Shaky Jones.  A fine man a drunk to boot.  He used to be in the navy, you know?  He used to clean the laundry.  But he got thrown out after he was caught doing business with the captains wife.'

  'What kind of business was he up to with the captains wife if you don't mind me asking?' said Jo.  He was curious to know what kind of man this Shaky Jones really was.

  'Well he used to like dressing up in her clothes,' said Tipsy.  'Especially her underwear.  Said he found it somewhat liberating, especially when out at sea.  He would trade her knickers for a portion of his cigarette stash.  When the captain found out what he was up to he put his boot right up the man's niagara falls.'

  'Poor fellow,' Jim replied.  'It was not like he was doing anything wrong.'

  'No he didn't.  But the captain wasn't mad about Shakey swapping clothes and wearing knickers.  No sir, it's more complicated than that,' said Tipsy.  'You see the captain was really darn hacked off when he learned from his own wife that Shaky Jones was the real father of his two sons...'

  'Ah I see,' Jim returned.  'I think it makes sense now why he was kicked out of the navy.  Very well.  Jo and I shall head to Flint street and find this Shaky Jones of yours.'

  'Well good luck to you,' said Tipsy, and he tilted his cap at Jim and Jo.  'I'll be hopping along now.  Got lots of messages to deliver you see?  But I wish you two gentlemen the best.  Have a fine evening when it finally arrives.  If you do get some money from the old begging business you will find me at the Short Tailed Fox at Bridge Street.  Buy us a drink if you like!  My pockets are probably as empty as yours.  We can make a bet on it if you like?'  When they declined his offer of a bet (What was the point none of them had money) Tipsy laughed and hopped away.

  Now Tipsy was gone it was time for Jim and his friend Jo to learn the serious business of becoming beggars.

  With the help of a man who thought himself to be a rabbit, they found Flint Street.  And there indeed was the old rickety shed at the end of the road, just as Tipsy had said.

  Marvellous!

  Things seemed to be going along rather well, till they discovered that the only door leading into the shed was locked.

  They knocked and called a few times, till a very rough and dirty looking fellow stepped up form behind a bush.

  They guessed this was Shaky Jones - it had to be, because he was wearing a long velvet dress.  It fitted in perfectly with Tipsy's exciting story about Shaky Jones naval adventures.

  'That's right I am Shaky Jones,' said the dirty scruffy looking man.  'Why are you knocking on the shed and calling my name like that?'

  'We were hoping you were going to help teach us to become beggars,' said Jim.

  'I am no longer involved in that kind of business,' said Shaky.  'I am a painter these days.  No not an artistic painter, just a man who paints walls and that sort of thing.  Can you please go away?'

  'We can't,' said Jim.  'We need to learn to become beggars.  We are in desperate need of money you see.'

  'What do you need money for, son?' said Shaky.

  'My friend and I are mighty parched and are hoping to acquire a pint from the local ale house,' Jim replied.  'Maybe a beer with a shot of whiskey that would be good.  But we can't get that sort of thing without money.  The last couple of weeks have been rough you see and a drink would go down mighty fine right now!'

  'I hear you lads but I can't help you,' said Shaky speaking plainly.  'I am out of the beggar training business.  I have been for five years now.  Sorry, lads.  You are on your own it seems.'

  'Why were you hiding in a bush?' said Jo.

  'It's every man's right to hide in a bush,' Shacky returned, and he suddenly turned quite defensive, 'Now please stop with the questions!  I am a busy man!'

  'Well you can't be that busy if you are hiding in a bush,' said Jo.  'What's really going on here?  What game are you playing with us!'

  'I don't play games, you stupid boy!' Shaky shouted.  He was growing greatly agitated, and started fiddling his fingers on both hands.  'I am sixty two right now, that means I am an adult.  I don't play games!  Now leave me be before I call the police!'

  'Call the police for what?' said Jo.

  'I will have you done for harassment!' Shaky cried.  'You won't hear the end of it believe me!'

  Jim started to grow nervous at the mention of the police...  He started to think about that DC Peddler and how a harassment charge would be the right fit of key to lock the cage on Jim once and for all.  He told Jo to calm down.  'Maybe we should ask someone else for help?' he said.

  But for some reason Jo wasn't ready to stand down yet.  Whether it was the alcohol withdrawal at work, or something else, maybe the broken child inside of him, he just wouldn't let go of the matter and continued to press poor old Shaky.

  'I am not walking away with my tail between my legs,' said Jo.  Then he turned to Shaky and pointed at him with an angry finger and demanded that he teach them to become beggars.

  Shaky said he wasn't going to do it, not for threats not for anything, and when he could see that he could not cool the fire of Jo's wrath he started to run away.

  But because of the long dress he was wearing Shaky tripped and fell over!

  Jo was soon on the poor broken man, and dragging him by his arms he pulled the dirty old vagabond back towards the shed.  

  Jim had never seen Jo in such a rage before...

  Why was he acting like this?

  It had to be the work of the G-Juice... or the lack of it!  He must have been craving the stuff, the poor man!  Jim full empathised with his friend right then.

  'Now you will open up that shed door and teach us the sacred art of begging,' said Jo.

  Shaky was quivering with fear.  His face, despite the layers of grease and dirt, had turned white with fright.  He started to beg Jo for mercy, but Jo wasn't having any of it.  'Open the door or I will punch you,' said Jo, raising his clenched fist and aiming it towards the man.

  Shaky admitted to being of weak constitution, and that he had an acute fear of pain, and finally agreed to open the shed door.

  Jo looked at Jim and winked.  Later that day he said to Jim, 'Sometimes brute force and menace is the only way!  That's what my Dad taught me!  And my landlord when he got the bailiffs to throw me out of my home.  And my ex wife after our divorce.  Sometimes if you want something real bad you have got to throw your weight about!'

  With a shaking hand Shaky slotted a tiny weasel sized key onto the shed lock, and reluctantly, with a tap of the fingers of his right hand, open the shed door.

  Once they got inside the shed they finally understood why Shaky didn't want them to go in.

  There was a full skeleton lying right in the middle of the room!

  It was just lying there on full display for them all to see!

  Jo and Jim's jaws dropped and they stood there like statues, while Shaky tried to explain why he was keeping a dead body inside his shed.

  'She was the wife of an old captain I once knew,' he said.  

  'Good lord you killed her?' cried Jim.

  'No she just died one day,' Shaky explained.  'I think it was the cold, or maybe the bootleg gin she used to drink.  I couldn't bear to bury her so I just left her there.  I wasn't expected her to rot like that.  If I had known she was going to turn into a skeleton I might have considered taking her to a church, or maybe one of her relatives, like her husband.  But it's too late now.  I have been stuck in this shed with this skeleton for five years now.  It's a sad old business, but ah well, life goes on as they say.'

  'Not for her it doesn't,' said Jim.

  'Look.  Is there anything I can do for you not to tell anyone about this?' said Shaky.  'I didn't kill her.  I just couldn't face burying her that's all.  I loved her too much for that.  When she's lying there it still feels like she is alive...   I used to lie awake looking at her beautiful face, until the ants got her and she turned into a skeleton.  That happened six years ago.  I agree it does look a bit macabre, but it was all done in good spirit.  I kept her there in the shed out of love.  Surely you understand, lads?  Please go easy on me.  I have a kind heart.  Don't report me to DC Peddler I beg you!  I won't last in prison.  Please, out of the milk of human kindness just let me stay here with my love till my own day finally comes.  I am an old man.  I don't deserve to be punished.  I wouldn't last in prison.  And I know Peddler.  He would lock me up for years.  He would make sure I was put in with the bad boys.  It would be over for me!  I am a good man and I don't deserve to be thrown to the dogs!'

  'Jim listened to this speech and an idea started to brew inside his head.  

  'Okay I have heard you out now listen to me,' said Jim.  'I am willing to make a business deal with you.'

  Shaky said he was listening and so Jim proceeded:

  'How much money do you have on your personage?  Twenty pounds?  Is that all?  Can you get more?  Okay good!  Now listen to this.  I won't tell the police about this mess you are in so long as you promise to furnish my hand with twenty pounds at the end of every week.  Do you hear me?  Every Sunday I want twenty pounds off of you.  Does that make sense?  Can you do it?  Good!  That's a deal then!  You supply me with a weekly income and I won't stitch on you to DC Peddler!'

  They shook hands, but Jim had one last final warning for Shaky:

  'I won't tolerate no nonsense from you Shaky.  Don't be late on the payments!  You miss one payment and I will be heading straight for the police.'

  Shaky promised that he would never be late with a payment, and proved it by stuffing two tenners into Jim's hand right away.

  'Looking forward to doing more business with you,' said Jim, and then he and Jo left a very shaky Shaky, who was at that time, standing shaking next to his deceased lover.  

  After they had closed the shed door on the poor quivering man Jim and Jo both laughed and slapped hands.

  'That was the easiest bit of money I have ever made!' Jim cried with elation.  'Stuff working for a living, hey, Jo?  I am never doing that again!  I quit my old job!  Threatening people for money is the way forward from now on, what do you say old mate?'

  Jo was counting the ten pound notes with a wide grin on his face.

  That grin was enough of an answer for Jim.

  They had done good business and decided it was time to celebrate with a pint.

Inside the Short Tailed Fox Jo and Jim spent their earnings on two pints of beer and a whiskey.  Tipsy was there as as he said he would be and Jim would have bought the man a drink as well if Tipsy hadn't of gotten into a fight with Ted, after accidentally spilling the mans pint; he was presently lying unconscious on a sofa in the corner of the room.  Poor old Tipsy!  No more hopping around for him that day!

  Tipsy was good company so they were sad for him not to be there, but the one good thing about having him out of the picture was that they were a few coins richer between them.  So having a bit of extra cash in reserve Jim and Jo decided to spend their savings on one last whiskey shot.

  The two friends drank into the evening but when the evening was over they were not drunk.  They stared at their empty glasses with sadness, and the gloom only grew when Jim felt around his empty pockets for the thirteenth time to find that there was still nothing there.  Not a note not a single penny.

  'This whiskey hasn't got quite the dash and splash that G-Juice has,' said Jo.

  Jim agreed.

  'Nay,' Jim replied.  'G-Juice is something else my son.  There is nothing else quite like it on this world.  It's out of this world you could say!'

  'I miss G-Juice...' Jo moaned.  

  'Don't worry, Jo lad,' Jim spoke up.  'I think we are going to be sorting out our G-Juice shortage problems very soon!  You will see.'

  'How do you know?' said Jo.

  Jim showed him his phone.  'Dr Gustav gave this to me.  It will only be a matter of time now and I will receiving a call from him.'

  'What do you think he wants?' said his friend.

  'I don't know but I definitely think it has something to do with the G-Juice,' Jim replied.  "I mean it has to.  Look at it like this, Jo.  We know Dr Gustave because of the juice.  He was leaving it in the subway for us to drink.  He brought us to this city for a reason.  I think he is going to make more of the stuff and he needs our help.'

  'How can we help him?  We don't know how to brew tap water?'

  'I know.  But listen,' said Jim.  'Let's just go along with things.  Let's see what Dr Gustav wants.  Maybe we can help him in some way.  And in return he might give us a bottle of G-Juice.'

  'That would be wonderful,' Jo replied.  The man was almost welling with tears at the thought of gurgling more of the precious juice.

  'Let's just keep our wits about us,' said Jim as he drank the dregs of an abandoned glass.  'I think in the days ahead we are going to be doing some good business here in Fenwick.'

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

Previous part here

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Walrus becomes famous !

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Haunted Shop in Gmod (I need to save my shop!)

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Also take a look at:
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Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
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Jim's subway 13 - Locked Up & Unchained

It was a very wonderful looking morning, with a quite lovely looking pink cloud slicing across the light blue sky.  Magnificent!  Romantic and good enough for a painting, or a photograph.  But unfortunately for Jim that sky was the only good thing going for him that morning, because everything in his life at that moment utterly sucked at that moment.  

  He had had no sleep, was utterly knackered, as it were, and only by the chance of a whisker had managed to escape a sizeable prison sentence.  

  'We will obviously be keeping an eye on you from now on Jim,' said DC Peddler as Jim vacated the cell.

  When Jim finally got outside he was approached by a tough looking man holding a gun.

  It turned out that it was Huey the Belgium explorer.  It had to be him of course!  He was the only man in Fenwick who walked in public with a dangerous loaded weapon.

  And so the two men stood beside the police station and talked for a few minutes.

  Huey, with his rifle cocked over his arm, looked to be in a good mood and slapping Jim over the shoulder smiling he said, 'The police been giving you a rough time hey young lad?'

  'They arrested me for no reason,' Jim replied.

  'Ah well.  You know how it is.  I heard from my friends over a drink that the new person in town had been arrested, and thought I would help out.  Lucky for you we are friends, Jim, and I am a respected citizen here in Fenwick.  I have many accomplices in the police department who take my word seriously.  I juggled a few dishes, if you will, and coloured a few hands with paper, and was able to talk them into letting you out!  The story about us having drinks in the pub was a fabrication of course, but when a man has a reputation like mine in town people will listen and they will take action.  So you have me to thank for your freedom, Jim.'

  Jim told Heuy that he was very grateful and thanked him several times.

  'I hear you had an altercation with Mrs Rits,' said Huey.

  'O indeed!  It was so scary.  That woman is a beast!  She belongs in a zoo!'

  'I agree with you, my son,' said Huey.  'She rather reminds of an animal I once encountered while hitchhiking the Americas.  It was called the manatee by the locals.  You will find animals of their kind along the coasts of Florida and Brazil.'  

  'Indeed,' Jim returned.  'I agree with that description!'

  'Be careful of that woman, Jim.  She can be a handful.'

  'Yes.  I noticed,' Jim replied.  'I shall be keeping my head low from now on.  And I shall be staying far away from the Rits hotel.  I would rather sleep on the streets than spend another night in that misbegotten place.'

  'Your a wise man,' said Huey.  Huey then slapped his rifle together and took a celebratory shot into the sky.  The nearby police patrol were so impressed by the gunshot that they gave Huey a round of applause and said that he was a fine man.

  'You are in a good mood today Huey?' said Jim.

  'There is a very good reason for this,' said Huey.  'I am returning to the Congo next week.  This is a great thing.  I look upon the Congo as a second home.  It is my life.  Whenever I am in the Congo I feel like an alcoholic picking up a bottle of whiskey - there is this feeling about it.  It feels right.'

  'I thought the Congo was supposed to be the heart of darkness,' said Jim.

  'It is,' Huey replied.  'And that is why I love it so much.  It is the one place on the Earth mankind cannot breach and whenever he has tried to set a foothold he has been cast out.  The Congo cannot be conquered by man, not with all his technology and industry.  There are houses there built in the colonial days back when man tried to claim the Congo, and now those houses have all been reclaimed by the jungle.'

  'Well I guess if it is your kind of thing then that is great,' said Jim.  

  'Why don't you come with me Jim?'

  Jim didn't want to upset Huey by telling him that the thought of going to the Congo frightened the absolute jibberjabbers out of him, so instead he politely declined the delightful offer of getting lost in a savage jungle with a man he barely knew.

  'It's a pity you won't go with me Jim,' said Huey.  'There is much I could show you about the Congo.  The animals that lurk in the dark jungles of that region of the earth are vast and terrible.  Twenty foot crocodiles, forty foot anacondas and spiders the size of men!'

  'Sounds positively charming,' Jim replied.

  'But that's not all,' Huey continued.  'In the depths of the Congo, in the lake Tele, there is said to be a dinosaur!  The local Pygmy people know it as the Mokele-mbembe, that is Lingala for "one who stops the flow of rivers."  My goal in life to find this dinosaur, and kill it.'

  Are you being serious or is this a joke?' said Jim

  'I never joke about such things,' Huey returned.  'Especially in matters that concern dinosaurs.  I am very serious about that kind of thing.  The last time I entered the Congo I search for nine days and found no sign of the beast.  I was almost gored to death by a hippo, but I didn't let that stop me.  The next time I return to the Congo I am going to find that dinosaur, and put an end to its existence once and for all.  I will hang its hide over my front door.  It will be the jewel in my crown.  I will be the most famous hunter to have ever lived.'

  'I thought you already were,' said Jim.

  'Well i shall be even more famous than that,' said Huey.  'It's been nice talking to you, Jim.  But I must be off.  The Congo is ahead of me, and that dinosaur waits for nobody!  Tallyho young Jim!  And go careful when you walk the streets of Fenwick.  You never when a stranger might be ready to tackle you to the ground.  This city ios a dodgy place.  But you have figured that out already.'

  Jim replied saying he had, and then waved his friend Huey goodbye wishing him all the best on his Congo adventure.

  As he Huey stalked away a young man with a cap and crutches started to call Jim over.

  'I need to speak to you there,' said the young man.  He introduced himself as Tipsy Neat, because he liked to drink neat whiskey.  'And then I get tipsy and fall over hence these old crutches here,' he explained.

  'Well nice to meet you Tipsy Neat,' said Jim.  'What do you need to speak to me about?'

  'I have got a message for you.  Well two messages actually.  One second!'

  Tipsy took off his left shoe and pulled a piece of paper out of it and handed it over to Jim.  'I keep messages like that inside my shoes.  That way I know I am not going to lose them.  I just don't think pockets are safe.  You know what I mean?  I find stuff keeps falling out of my pockets, especially after a drink or two.  And when I am lying in the streets drunk looters always like to steal from me and the first place they go is my pockets.  But they stay away from my shoes because my shoes are so old and rotten and stinking that not even a street bum wants anything to do with them!  Haha!'

  Jim laughed along with the man, he liked his sense of humour, and then proceeded to read the message:

  

Top my darling beloved Jim,

  It is I, Madam Rits.  I have not forgotten our love for one another.  I will search for you in the streets.  I will find you.  I will look everywhere!  I will never stop my quest.  And when j find you we will make passionate love with one another, and run away into the hills and marry and have five hundred children.  It will happen I promise you my love.  I will never surrender this flame I carry for you in my heart.

Madam Rits.

The letter scared Jim so much he had to tear it up right away and throw the paper shards into the drain!

  Would that accursed woman never give up?

  'Right I've got another message,' said Tipsy.  'Hold on one second there Jim, I'll just pop me shoe off!'

  Tipsy removed his right shoe this time and handed Jim another crumpled piece of paper.

  The message read:

Meet me in the street behind the Short tailed Fox.

Signed anonymous.

  It was a nice short message and got straight to the point. Wonderful stuff!

  Jim thanked Tipsy for his help.

  'I will be going home now,' said Tipsy.  'Until next time!'

  Tipsy popped his shoes back on and then hobbled away back to the pub.  

  Jim on the other hand made his way over to the street behind the Short Tailed Fox.

  There was a tall man standing there waiting for him.

  He was wearing a white coat, like an old fashioned surgeon.

  It was Ivan Gustav!

  Finally, Jim thought, he had found the man.  Now maybe it was time to get some more G-Juice?

  He so desperately needed a swig of that lovely stuff - his hands were still shaking with withdrawal symptoms!

  'See you have made a name for yourself in town.  Well you done,' said Ivan.  'And if I you can't tell I am actually being sarcastic,' he continued.  'You have made a hash of everything!  You nearly ruined my plans.  You were supposed to keep things low key!  We were supposed to be doing this business in secret!  And now you have somehow got the police involved!  You don't know DC Peddler.  The man is ruthless as he is persistent.  Once you have made an enemy out of him he never let's go.  Now he is involved our business may possible be ruined forever!'

  'Now hang on a minute there!' Jim spoke up.  'In my defence I have no idea what is going on!'  Jim had been through a lot in the last few days and he didn't appreciate this dressing down treatment from Ivan Gustav.  Ever since he entered Fenwick he had been a lamb among wolves.  He had no idea where to go or what to do!

  But Ivan wasn't interested in his excuses.

  'From now on we will communicate with this!'  Ivan handed Jim a phone.  'When I call you again we will meet here in this street.  But we cannot talk now because you have just left the police station and DC Peddler might be shadowing you with one of his scouts.'

  Jim asked Ivan what he was supposed to do in the meantime.  Jim explained that he was in a very bad situation.  He was homeless and lost and Ivan just didn't seem to care!  'I have been thrown out of the Rits,' said Jim.  'I have nowhere to stay.  And the police are after me.  They are watching me, they said so themselves.'
  'Head to the train station.  Somebody there is waiting for you.  That is all I am going to tell you about it.'

  And after that Ivan was gone, vanishing behind a wall covering a dark alley, and leaving Jim standing all alone in the street.

  'Well there is nothing else for it,' Jim said to himself.  'I am going to head to the train station.'

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

Previous part here

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Jim's Subway Part 12: A visitor in the night - the guns were blazing!

Jim was about to get into bed when he realised that he was not alone in his room...

  There was a great grave shadow lurking in the corner of his room.

  He hoped it was just his imagination creating objects, or maybe the moonlight rebounding from the chest of draws.  But then the object moved...

  And no he was not dreaming!  He had pinched himself twice!  He was wide awake for sure!

  Eventually the object started to move towards him.  

  What was this thing?  This unfathomable fiend slowly taking shape in front of him?

  He started to shake. 

  Jim prayed:

  'Please let it be a dream!  O please dear lord make it be a dream I beg you!'

  But O no!  Alas for poor Jim for it was not a dream.

  The writhing shadow started to talk using this vile, rasping voice:

  'Shall I turn the light on?' it said.

  'I don't know if that is a good idea,' Jim replied.  'I am scared.  I think I prefer things the way they are, and left in the dark...'

  'But without light I cannot see you properly,' said the fiend in the corner of the room.  'I am going to turn in the lights so that we can both enjoy the sight of each other.'

  So the light turned on, and for the first time in his life Jim beheld the horror of the fiend...

  Few words formed in his brain that were adequate to describe the the outrageous form of the fiend.  If Jim was perfectly honest with himself, no words were up to the task of explaining or deciphering the sheer scale of the horror that confronted him that night.

  The thing was clothed in a single flow of dark fabric, and from this fabric there appeared a head, and arms, and maybe something that could be called legs - the head of the fiend itself was situated atop a body that resembled an animal native to the coasts of Florida and Brazil, the Belgium explorer Huey would tell you that the animal the fiend resembled was known to natural science as the Manatee.  But it was to the creatures head that Jim's eyes were drawn finally, at its spindly grey hair, its recessed jaw, and the uncanny droop of its forehead.  One eye on its head was larger than the other, and the eyelid of the left eye was twisted by some bizarre deformity affecting a bulge that rather resembled a spike, or a horn.  And as the fiend moved its copious waves of floppy flesh undulated like a jellyfish.

  Jim didn't know it at the time but this fiend was actually Mrs Rits, wife of Mr Rits the owner of the Rits Hotel and the same gentleman he had met and had an interesting conversation with about cotton trees the previous day.    

  'I have been waiting for you,' she said to Jim.  'Long have the nights been without you to warm the side of my bed.'

  Jim shook with horror.  'I beg your pardon?' he returned.  'Do we know each other?  Maybe you have mistaken me for somebody else?  I really think there has been some mistake here.  Can you please leave?  I have an important meeting tomorrow.'

  'O there is no mistake,' Mrs Rits replied.  'I know you and you know me.  You would think I would forget the times we shared together?  And why would I leave?  I have waited so long for your return.'

  She had obviously mistaken Jim for somebody else.

  Jim was really starting to panic.

  'Look maddam can you please leave.  You can't invade my privacy like this,' said Jim.

  He didn't know how she had managed to gain access into his room, because the door was still barred by pieces of furniture.  

  Jim had a little think to himself and then it struck him - Good gosh!  Maybe she had entered through the bathroom window?  He had left it open before his walk.  

  So it was his fault this foul woman had entered his room!  

  'I remember the last time we talked,' she continued.  'What was it you said to me?  Wait for my return!  That is what you said.  I will leave the window open to thee, my love.  Like a play written by the hand of Shakespeare, you said to me, soft what light burn in my heart when the window is open yonder - I wait there for thee, my love.'

  'I think there has been some confusion here,' said Jim.  

  'I think it is you who is confused,' said Mrs Rits.  'Maybe you are tired.  Maybe you forget.  Maybe some sleep will revive your thoughts.  Then you will remember all that we have been through, our journey together, our passionate adventure in the streets of Fenwick.  When last we met you told me with your own voice that you loved me.  You said so yourself, and I will never forget it.  The last time we met we made love ten times in this very room.  And we shall do so again, you and I;  we shall make passionate love like never before.  I do not care if my husband finds me in your arms, for he cannot snuff the hot flame of love that burns in both our hearts - the flame that kindles us as one.'

  Jim heard this and understood that he was in a very bad situation.  The woman was quite clearly mad, and had obviously confused him with a previous lover, somehow.  It was either his appearance, or she was drunk, or on illicit substances, whatever, no amount of explaining or pleading could convince her that Jim was not her man.

  So he was left with no choice.

  He had to find an escape route.

  There seemed to be only one way out, and that was the same way that he came in: 

  The bathroom window!

  So he made a run for it, and hurried through the window as fast as a ferret down a rabbit hole!

  He was back on the streets again, but the nightmare was far from over.

  Mrs Rits had gotten out of the hotel and had somehow managed to corner him on the East Street.

  She waddled towards him, arms waving, her vast waves of sagging flesh wobbled like the blubber of a beached whale.  Jim was literally dealing with a Walrus in human form!

  Did Fenwick have a zoo by any chance?

  'There can be no escape from you my love!' she cried.  'We are destined to be together, to spend the rest of our lives in one another's arms!'

  Mrs Rits was a very large woman and almost blocked the street left to right, but Jim was just about thin enough to slid by her vastness, and once on the other side he ran for it.  On merit to her copious girth Mrs Rits found it very difficult turning around so Jim was given a few minutes to be able to put a good amount of ground between him and his assailant.

  'That walrus beast won't get me!' he said in his mind.

  He made a couple of turns, and then eventually found the entrance to the Short Tailed Fox drinking house.

  Once inside the pub he ordered a drink (he sure deserved one) and pulled his coat up to cover his face took a seat in the corner.  

  'Hopefully she won't find me here,' he said to himself.  He looked at the front door and it looked about large enough for one average sized person to walk through.  "She is so big she won't be able to get inside," he thought.

  Relishing his success he allowed himself a little chuckle.  

  Victory was his!

  'If I need a sleep I will just slip here on this chair,' Jim said.  'I am sure the owner won't mind so long as I pay.  They might even have a room I can stay in.  I think I am going to be safer her that in that crazy hotel.  It just seems a lot nicer here.  That Mr and Mrs Rits are just too much for me!'

  Just as Jim was starting to think that the nightmare was at an end, a police officer walked into the pub and walked over to his table.  He checked Jim over and then asked him to stand up.

  Having little choice Jim obeyed.

  'Hold out your wrists son,' said the police officer.

  'I beg your pardon?' Jim returned.

  He was understandably confused.

  'I need your wrists on display.  I have got to cuff them.'

  'Why?'

  'I will explain when we reach the prison.  But for now no questions.  Just hold out your wrists and let's get this business done.'

  'Aren't you even going to read my rights?'

  'Don't try my patience sonshine,' the police officer returned.  'Now let me cuff you or things here will start to get nasty.'

  Before Jim knew it he was being cuffed and led into a police van.

  A few minutes later they were driving into Fenwick prison.  

  Jim was taken out of the van and led inside a cell.

  Once inside prison Jim met DC Will Peddler.  

  Like everyone else he met in Fenwick DC Peddler talked to Jim like they were old acquaintances, like he was someone Jim should already know.

  'You have got quite the reputation in town eh?' said the constable.  'But we have got you this time, Jim.  Little rat that you are, cornered and trapped!  But you won't fight back.  You can't.  You know the game is over.  Harassment is a very serious charge, don't you know?  Could land you ten years.'

  'Ten years?'

  'Here in Fenwick we do things differently.'

  'You don't need to tell me that,' Jim replied.

  'Less of the sarcasm sonshine,' DC Peddler shouted.  'You have got no power here.  You are just a crook.  Scum.  That's all you are.  Human filth.  And I am going to make sure you get what you deserve.  O yes.  It's over for you.'  DC Peddler rubbed his fingers together and chuckled.  'We have finally bagged us the biggest rat in town and it's about damn time too!  I think we are going to squeeze ten years out of you.  How does it feel to know that your life is over, Jim?'

  'Can you at the very least tell me what it is I am supposed to have done wrong?'

  'You were seen in public in the company of Mrs Rits, Wife of the respected hotel proprietor Mr Rits.  Could you tell me what you were doing holding another man's wife in your arms?'

  'I think you need to ask her that.  I was in her arms not the other way round thank you very much.  And it was a very uncomfortable position to be in let me tell you!  I would not want to relive any of it!'

  DC Peddler heard this and sneered.  'That's how it is going to be is it?  You are going to play the victim card hey?' he said.  'Very nice for you.  But it is not going to work.  As I told you already the game is up for you sonshine.  We have a written allegation from Mr Rits that you have been harassing him and his wife for two days now.  This is a very serious business you have gotten yourself tied up in, Jim.  This is going to get you locked up.  We are going to have to detain you for the night at the very least.'

  'Detain me?  What does that entail?'

  'We are going to be locking you up with the big boys,' said DC Peddler.  'You are going to be having some company tonight Jim.  Ha!  They are going to love you inside.  Serial harasser of defenceless innocent woman.  When the big boys find out what you have been up to they are going to be having some fun with you, Jim.  One night in Fenwick prison will teach you.  You are in for a big old shock.  Most people who spend the night here in this place rarely manage to see it through to the next day.'  DC Peddler chuckled once again.  He was obviously enjoying very much sweating down poor and confused Jim.

  Jim explained that Fenwick was still part of the United Kingdom which meant that he had rights, but DC Peddler wasn't listening to any of it:

  'No one is going to defend a serial harasser.  You are going to get locked up!  I am going to find you a nice cell, and some nice friends to share the night with.  Ha!  The lads are going to love you, Jim.  Caged animals always appreciate a slab of fresh meat!'  

  Just at that moment a rookie officer entered the cell and asked for word with DC Peddler in private.

  They were gone for about five minutes, leaving Jim to sweat some more.  When the DC returned he was cursing under his breath and with a sad heavy sigh told Jim that he was free to go!

  'It's your lucky day again, Jim.  Someone, who I cannot name, has just told one of my officers that you spent the whole night with them having drinks.  Looks like you have got some friends looking out for you after all.  How convenient hey?  No matter.  There will be other days.  We will get you, eventually, Jim.  You can't keep escaping us all the time.'

  And so they let Jim go, and released him from the cell.

  Jim was glad to be free again, but then a dreadful thought occurred to him.  Was he not already a prisoner?  A prisoner of Fenwick itself!

  He returned to the subway and discovered that there were no trains in operation...  the railway and the only way off of the island evaporated into the distant mists beyond.  The grimness of his situation was all but apparent, crystal clear like a lucid dream:

  He was trapped in Fenwick!

  

  

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

Previous part here

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Jim's Subway part 11: Strangers in the streets

Jim couldn't sleep at the end of that day.  He felt that he needed some air, and so decided to take a walk.

  Maybe it wasn't a good idea to go out.  Jim didn't know Fenwick at all.

  But he decided to take the risk.  

  He needed to clear his mind so much.

  But he dare not use the door to his room - good gosh no!  That was far too risky.  He couldn't risk a second helping of Mr Rits!

  So he decided to use the bathroom window instead.

  The window was a good enough size for him to slip through, and he was on the bottom floor so there was hardly no distance to fall.  So the window worked a treat!

  Before he knew it Jim was out on the streets of the Walled City of Fenwick!

  He drank it all in.

  What a sight!

  The roads and the pavements were constructed out of grey cobbles.  The buildings were built out of red sandstone.  Many of the buildings had strange dimensions, some of them going up high, or rearing off sideways into nothingness.   And only a few of the buildings he saw actually had doors or windows.  There were lots of walls as well, like the brainchild of the city of Fenwick was trying to hem in all the streets and alleyways for some reason, like they were trying to keep you imprisoned at very turn.

  But what struck him most, what surprised and chilled him, was the emptiness of Fenwick, the quiet...

  There was literally nobody to see!

  And when a character did appear, sauntering near the end of some ally or twist in the street, they were darkly dressed, sullen and unapproachable.  They would offer Jim nothing more than a peculiarly angry look; it was like they had seen him before and disliked him from some unpleasant preferably forgotten memory.   

  But the weirdest thing about Fenwick, at least from Jim's point of view, was that Jim felt that he had visited the city before!  The streets just felt oddly familiar to him...   It was a strange sensation or feeling that he had as he walked between the sandstone walls.  There was something about the streets that he felt he recognised.  
  He eventually reached the farthest corner of the city he could get to, and behold the feet of the great steel wall that protected the entrance into the city.  The only way in was by way of train, and beside the train track there were no other roads or paths into the city.  Every other region of the city was secured by cliffs that slide into dark misty pits.

  Castle Fenwick was standing to the right of him, leering down from the Great Fenwick Hill where its ancestors had constructed it in the days of William of Normandy; its ancient bulk cast a shadow over the eastern quadrant of the city.  Its redundant defence towers and rickety buttresses and dilapidated balconies secured a grim charm of the old dark days when men killed each other legally and on mass to the whims of their masters.  There was a darkness and a brooding in the walls of the castle.  The edifice held dominion over the Fenwick skyline.  It had a menace about it.  It fastened the city together, from gate to steel wall, like a vast and fearsome padlock welded by insane giants intent on locking the city from the rest of the world forever.

  Jim's next turn was the cathedral.

  The vast hall beyond the front door was cool and silent.

  There was a tranquility within the building that could not be found on the grey cobbles without.

  He walked from one length of the hall to the other.  

  Like the rest of Fenwick the cathedral had a feeling of familiarity about it.

  Jim felt like he had been inside the place before, maybe he had visited as a child...

  Or maybe he was just dreaming?

   

  Outside of the cathedral front door was a rickety old dustbin lying on its side.  Jim stood it back up and taking a few steps back, stopped to look at the old thing.  It as rusting badly.  It didn't have a lid anymore.  He wondered at how old it was.  How long had it stood there, or how long had it been lying down.  How many people had walked by it and ignored its presence.  Had the bin been used at in years?  From the inside it was totally empty.  He wondered who made the thing, was it a personal creation by a talented and passionate artist?  Had patient hands forged the thing for a special task, to store or hide or banish the work f a lifetime?  Or was it just produced by a machine, thrown out alongside a thousand other identical twins to be stacked away on some shady street corner, to be stuffed and used and forgotten.  Did anyone ever think about that bin?  Was Jim the first person to think about it in the last ten years?  It had a year written on its underside, 1992, so quite old.  Made in china.  So the bin was a traveller then?  What kind of a journey brought the bin all the way to murky misty Fenwick?  It had travelled so many leagues, seen more of the world than most people ever do in their lifetime.  it was a proud bin, standing in its rust like a defiant soldier - covered in mud.  It had travelled it had escaped battles, you could see the dents and the scratches on its body, and it bore those scars with pride.  It was a beautiful bin.  Jim loved it.  He wanted to take it home and treasure it but Jim knew he could not do that, for to take that lonely forgotten bin would be an act of theft, and although he might find a decent home for that bin a deed of such kindness would see him locked in a prison.  He would be put in a catch - that would be his lot.  Locked up wot the lads.  What an awful nightmare that would be.  Jim couldn't think about it any longer and so he tuned around and walked away, leaving the bin all alone on the side of the pavement, standing broken yet defiant in the shadow of the cathedral.

Jim needed to sit down.

  The local pub, The Short Tailed Fox, was open to him, and so he pressed on inside hoping to secure himself half a pint (all he could afford) of the old hair of the dog.

  Very close to the bar, just about ready to leave a table, was a large blocky-built gentleman with huge shoulders, mighty ape like arms and massive shoes at the end of his tree-trunk legs.  But his head (now that was a thing!) was as small as a quaint polished stone on a beach - with beady eyes and soft features like those belonging to a church mouse, his strange small head hang there on its beefy frame like a cantaloupe balancing between two mighty oaks.

  This great block of a man introduced himself as Ted:

  'Alright mate!  The names Ted,' he said, and he forcibly grabbed and started shaking Jim's hand.  'We've met before haven't we?' he said.

  Jim looked at the giant man directly and slowly shook his head.  'I am sure we have not,' he said.  

  Definitely not was the real answer speaking insideJim's head: Jim would have certainly remembered such a disproportionate man as Ted if they had met before in the past.  

  'Well okay.  It doesn't matter anyway.  All that matters right now is that I have an offer for you.  Are you interested?'

 'Well it depends on what it is.'

  'I have got this television back home and it's yours for five hundred pounds,' said Ted.  'You heard me right!  Don't look so surprised.  For five hundred pounds it's yours.  This television is the latest model.  Let me tell you it is brilliant!  High res, definition.  The best colours and graphics pf the modern era.  It will play all your video games and all that sort of thing, you can even stream to relatives.  It connects to a satellite in space so you can even stream to your relatives abroad.  The only problem is the TV doesn't have a screen.  But if you can live with a television missing a screen you won't find anything else better for such a beautiful price.  O yes!  Did i forget to mention it has ALL of the channels?'

  Jim told Ted that he wasn't interested in buying a television.  

  When ted heard this he looked confused, even slightly perplexed.

  He took his hat off to scratch his head. 'You won't find a deal like this anywhere else,' he said.

  Jim agreed with the man whole heartedly, and then told him again that he wasn't interested in buying a television at that moment, besides he didn't have five hundred pounds on him anywhere.  In fact he owed about that much to his landlord.

  'Well if you change your mind you will find me in my shop, just at the end of the street.  You can't miss the place, it has a stuffed elephant sticking out of the roof!'

  'Sounds like an interesting place I will visit one day,' said Jim.

  'See to it that you do, and bring much moneys with you.  What's the point in money if you are not going to spend it hey?  All that investing malarkey?  Fiddlesticks to that nonsense!  If you are going to invest then throw your pension into my shop.  You won't regret it!  And if you are interested in a screenless TV with all the channels let me know.  My offer for five hundred stands for the rest of the week.  But after that the price is going back up to seven.  So don't mess around young Jim and nab yourself a deal while you can!'

  Jim asked Ted if he always was so jolly and optimistic, was a mental disorder?

  'No it's just the tap water,' Ted replied.  'You should try it some time.  The water flows from the deep well of Fenwick.  It's wonderful and make you feel great.  It also helps that I was dropped in my head after three months of age.  Well that's enough fun for me.  I better return to my shop.  Who knows what opportunities I am missing to nab another mans pension!  Work work work!  That's the life of an honest trader!'

  'Well you don't want to miss a possible business deal hey?'

  Ted heard this and laughed and replied:

  'Well you know what they say here in Fenwick, young Jim.  A badger in the bag is worth two dogs in a boat!  Good day to you, my friend.  And good luck!'

  And with that Ted was off, and Jim felt it was time to be doing the same thing himself.

  'I better get back to the Rits,' he said.  

  

Jim was gaining on the hotel, in fact there was only one last street left for him to navigate, when a man suddenly jumped him from behind an old disused telephone box.

  Jim couldn't believe it but the man was actually armed with the most untraditional weapon he had ever seen, it was in fact a Albini-Braendlin rifle, he had read about the weapon before in old-school textbook adventure stories.  

  In fact the man rather had the look of an old adventurer - he had like this vintage turn fo the century safari explorer costume, and he was wearing a large leopard skin hat.  'I mean you now harm,' said the man.  'This is just the way I greet new people.  I am Belgium, you see.  I am descended from a long line of great hunters.  It was a source of great embarrassment to the family when my father decided to take up a career as an elephant inseminator for a local zoo.  My Grandfather, you see, used to track wild animals in the Congo region of Africa, and in an effort to amend our families recently dilapidated reputation I have chosen to follow my grandfathers ways and maintain the hunter tradition of our family.  But it is difficult work.  As you can see one most remain constantly on guard.  That is why I walk around the city holding a gun.  I man never knows when a lion or a bear might be loose in the streets.'

  The rifle welding stranger introduced himself as the renown Belgium explorer Hugo Bergerac Devereux, a man Jim had, funnily enough, never heard of before.

  Jim told the man his name was simply Jim.

  'Most people just call me Huey for short,' said the Belgium hunter.  'So Jim please feel free to call me Huey.  I will not take offence.  No indeed not.  Any man woman or child will find it a very hard task to offend me.  I have lived for ten years in the Congo.  I have used snake pits as latrines, drank from fetid lagoons and licked the backs of poisonous toads to increase my threshold to infectious diseases.  My immunity levels are so off the charts that I allowed venomous snakes to bite me just to prove a point to the few fools that dare to travel with me on my adventures.  I have also fought in the war.  So I do not take offence too many things.  I know how hard the lash is when life decides to bear down on you.  I have been whipped by storms and beaten by wild beasts.  Tell me Jim:  Have you ever spoken to a man who was hunted by twelve head hunters, frisked and frolicked by poisoned spears, fed head first into a crocodiles gullet, and almost physically rearranged toe to head by a silver back guerrilla?  Well you do now Jim, because I am that man.  After the incident with the guerrilla, having fallen into a cage at a zoo as a ten year old boy very little in life affects me anymore.  So sir, hear me now and believe me when I tell you that nothing offends me anymore least of all demeaning names like Huey.'

  'Okay I will do, thanks Huey.  So how did you fall into a guerrilla cage?'

  'Well I was young and foolish,' Huey returned.  'I was merely ten at the time, a tender age even for a hardy soul hardened by hardships, like me.  I could see the animal was clearly agitated about something, maybe it hadn't been fed, so I took it upon myself to calm the hair brute.  I climbed the cage using my strength and wits.  I thought I might tame the beast by singing it the same lullaby songs my mother used to send me to sleep.  It didn't work and I was almost killed.'

  'How did you survive?'

  'I don't know, I passed out.  But my mother told me the warden shot the brute dead.  Fine animal.  Sad it had to be killed for my sake.  And all i wanted to do was sing it a gentle song.'

  'That is a sad story,' Jim replied.  'You just wanted to care for the animal.  Love it, like your mother loved you.'

  After Jim had said this Huey's eyes became inflamed, and he smacked Jim round the face, almost knocking the man to the ground.  'I like you Jim but never speak of such things ever again,' said the great Belgium hunter.  'All talk about my mother is out of bounds.  If you really want to know how to offend me, and trust me Jim you really don't, then speak of my Mother.  We had a strained relationship.  The memory of it alone turns me to anger!'

  'Okay I will never speak of it again,' said Jim.  

 Huey gave Jim a hand up.

  Jim brushed himself down.  'I only wish you said something about it earlier,' he said.  'All you had to do was tell me that you found talking about your mother upsetting.'

  Within a second Jim was back on the ground again.

  After that second smack Jim decided it was better not to say much when in Belgium man's company.

  Huey listen Jim up from the ground one last time and announced that he was leaving, and that he had important business to attend concerning his next trip to Africa.

  'When we meet again I will hopefully have more news about my next expedition to the Congo,' he said.  'Good luck to you, Jim.'  And he shook Jim's hand briskly with his great hairy brown hand and then stalked away.  And yes he stalked, not walked: go fourth through the streets like a man hunting a wild beast (possibly a guerrilla?).

  Jim meanwhile finished his walk, and climbed back up through his bathroom window.  It was time to have some sleep.

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

Previous part here

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Jim's Subway part 10

Jim opened the door and a short rotund gentleman blundered inside.  He started looking under the bed, checking through the wardrobe, and then snooped around inside the dresser drawers.

  Then he turned round and stormed right up to Jim's face and bellowed, 'Right then you!  Where is she?  Tell me where she is!  I want to know right now!'
  Jim was unsure how to respond to this madness.  'Where's who?' he said finally.

   'Don't play Mr Innocent with me!  I know your sort!'

  'Sir I really don't think you do...'

  'Then why are you here?'

  'I am meeting someone!'

  'I knew it!  You devil! You swine!'

  'Calm down and tell me what this is about please!' said Jim.

  'You have been having an affair with my wife haven't you?' the short gentleman returned.  'You are the one she has been seeing!  I know it!  You turn up out of the blue, dressed up all fancy dancy!'

  'Sir please!  I implore you!  I don't know your wife.  And I am a drunk dressed like a tramp!  I live in a squalid apartment and hang out with a homeless man!  Do I honestly look and sound like a fancy dancy man?  If you still think so then please sir offer me up a glass of what you have been drinking because I would sincerely appreciate some of it right now after everything have been through!'  

  The gentlemen sniffed at him, and then retorted: 'It's a disguise!  You are wearing a disguise that is what is going on!  This dishevelled coat of yours you bought it form a pantomime shop!'

  Jim told the man he had actually found the coat in a bin, which was pretty close to the truth and definitely more exciting than the truth in that he really got it for exchange in a bargain shop after handing over a pair of his old woolly socks.

  'Right then this is the next step!'  The gentleman demanded Jim to empty his pockets.  'I want to see if you have a phone or are keeping any letters.  Don't just stand there like a blithering fool!  Jump to your stations!  I want to see what you have in your pockets!"

  Jim told the man that his pockets were empty and finally proved it by turning them inside out.

  The gentleman took and deep breath and polished his spectacles.  'So you can confirm that you are not doodling about with my wife?'

  Jim responded:

  'Listen sir I don't know your wife.  I don't even know her name.  I don't even know YOUR name!'

  'I think we got off to the wrong start.'

  'You can say that again.'

  'Okay.  If that's what you wish.  I think we have got off to the wrong start.  My name is Mr Rits.  Mr Pollock Rits in full.  I am a fine man and I am also a fan of fans, you know the things that keep you dry in summer.  I also like wearing tinfoil hats and hiding in the fireplace whenever my Aunt Deirdre comes round to visit with one of her special pies.  I eat four meals a day and fast every second day and although I am not a spiritual man I do believe that a man does live on top of the moon.'

  'Well that's splendid,' said Jim.  Jim gave over his name, told Mr Ritz that he worked in an awful job for a horrible boss and that was all he needed to know about his personal life.  Later they shook hands like old lads returning from the wars, or from a heavy night of drinking.

  'I didn't mean to put you on blast earlier it's just I have been ever so suspicious of late,' explained Mr Rits.  'It's my wife, you see, Mrs Rits.  She hasn't left her bedroom in five days and I am sure she is up to something.  I mean she is always out and about and its not normal for her to be housebound like this.  I am suspicious of her.  I think she is vacating through the back window yonder and from their embarks on a lot of suspicious business in the streets.  She is the kind of girl to get up to that sort of thing.  You stay clear of her, you hear me Jim?  Do it for your own sake.  She is not the kind of person you want to get mixed up with.  I should know I married her for goodness sake!  Six happy years we have been together - it is only the last five that have been unpleasant.  Five years of pure darn misery that's what married life has brought to me.  Marriage is a horrible business, young Jim.  You are better f out of it.'

  'As I am a poor tramp I don't have much choice than to just stay out of it,' Jim returned.

  'I have known one or two tramps in my time and they were all lusty charismatic men,' said Mr Rits.  'I have already lost two wives to tramps!  I will not lose a third!  Certainly not to a scoundrel like you!  Ah and there I go again giving you a blasting.  Sorry about that young Jim.  You are a good one I can see that.  In fact I will go as far as to say that I actually like you in that I find you quite agreeable.'

  Jim didn't know whether to feel relief or a indeed a sense of dread on hearing this.

  'Hopefully this ansty business will soon be over with,' said mr Rits.  He then proceeded to explain what he meant by this.  'I am going to make a lot of money and run away.  That's right, my boy!  Listen to me Jim for I am speaking from the heart here.  I am going to make enough money to flee Fenwick for good.  You see I just found out that there is a lot of money to be made in cotton.  That's right my boy!  Cotton grows on trees in the swamps of Florida.  If one can find a way to navigate the alligators, the reeds, the bugs and certain strange people, you can harvest the cotton from the great populus trees.  O it is true!  Cotton grows aplenty in those parts!  It's a wonderful thing.  And people of the swamp fill their beds with the cotton, and they will buy it off you for a huge price!  There is money to be made!  And coton is the future.  And once I have made my fortune in the cotton trade I will flee the walled city and live as a free man in my favourite country, Angola.'

  'Well good luck to you,' Jim replied.

  Mr Rits sniffed at him and snapped his braces.  'I don't need luck,' he snapped.  'I know I can do this!'

  'I have every faith in you.'

  'So do I,' the gentleman replied.  

  Mr Rits announced that he was leaving Jim allowed, saying that, 'I know you and you know me so our business is done!"

  Jim was thankful that. the gentleman was going to leave him alone.

  But before Mr Rits opened the door, he turned and said:

  'Be at ease here in my hotel!  Enjoy yourself!  BUT if I find you in the company of my wife it will not go well do you hear, sonshine?  If I find you with her I will break my foot off inside your nether regions, do you you hear me Jim?'

  'I hear you indeed,' Jim replied.

  When the gentleman had finally vacated the room Jim proceeded to relock the door and block it with a nearby chair and he also dragged the dressing table over as well for good measure.

  

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Also take a look at:
My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
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Retro Memories : FMV Lands of Lore

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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