Freddy was not the most charitable or generous of souls in life. He had burned other peoples credit, got into trouble with the police, and was the enemy of loan sharks. He had spent the last five years picking the goods from dead bones, wishing the nights away with a shovel in hand while up to his knees in mud.
And now he was addicted to a fine little green drink called G-Juice...
A pretty fair argument could be made that the man was a degenerate and not somebody who was really good to know.
But one day something happened and Freddy decided to do a good deed helping a cheery older lady to cross the road.
'Bless you son you are so kind!' she said.
Freddy felt good about himself. Here he was finally stepping up and being a man! O yes! He felt very good indeed until he was introduced to the ladies son:
Frank King.
Before he knew it Freddy was being bundled into the back of a car and driven down a mysterious road...
'You did good today, Freddy,' said Frank. 'Helping out my Mum! I am going to pay you back.'
'O it was nothing I assure you Mr King!'
'Nonsense boy! I am going to take care of you from now on. And I have got a job for you to do. You are an accountant, yes?'
'Uhh...Umm. Yes...' Freddy replied in a mushy soggy silly glush of a voice.
'That is good. I need a new accountant for my business. Up for the job? I pay well?'
GULP!
'O yes. Of course, Mr King. I will be your accountant.'
'That is good to hear, Freddy. I knew you were an excellent sort the moment I met you. Now let me show you where I live and then we can get down to business!'
There is absolutely no denying it that Frank King's private setup was a very interesting fish to describe...
The man owned an entire block of flats.
'My brother and I live on the third and second level. My mother lives on the ground because she struggles with the stairs,' he explained.
So by virtue of owning all of those flats Frank lived in what can really be described as a massive mansion!
A mansion on the cheap!
Country mansions are often rundown but even when they are in excellent condition they are so expensive to run - but own a blocking of flats with inexpensive maintenance? Now that was a sweet and pretty impressive move on Franks part.
Mr King had the whole massive building setup nice and smooth!
Everything was joined together, it was a picture.
The stairways bled into the hallways and the hallways lead into the rooms and bedrooms had been turned into offices and dinning areas. It was all rather splendid. Mr King had done an excellent job of building an extremely large and plush home for himself.
'Now this is my brother,' said Frank, and a man in a wheelchair rolled onto the scene.
So this was Vincent King, and the two brothers could not have been more different. In fact the contrast between the two men could be described as spectacular. Almost an achievement! Truly the imagination of nature had no limits!
So there was Frank, strapping fellow and smartly dressed, and Vincent over there by his side all bloated, unwashed, wearing a string vest and boxer shorts apparently.
Frank was positive, always talking about the future as something to look forward to. On the flip of the coin Vincent was depressed and hardly said anything that was really worth listening to.
The first thing Vincent said as he rolled up to Freddy was this:
'Yes. I am Vincent. Vincent King. And yes, before you ask, yes I am dead from the waist down and have been that way since birth!'
'Well actually I wasn't going to say anything like that,' Freddy replied nervously.
'But you were thinking about it weren't you?' said the depressed and fat man. 'And here is something else that will be good for you to know - just because I am stuck in this chair does not mean you can poke fun at me. Poke fun at me and see what happens. Go on! Do it!'
Freddy was terrified. He literally did not know what to do!
Vincent told Freddy to call him fat.
'Do it! Call me fat! I dare you!'
Backed into a corner Freddy did it.
'You are fat!'
Vincent pressed a button and sprang out of his chair and started wrestling Freddy to the ground.
Frank watching and listening to the scene started to chuckle. 'Bless you brother you never change do you with your tricks!' he said. He helped his great fat wobbling brother back into his chair, leaving a mortified Freddy lying on the ground totally unsure what to do next.
'Is it safe for me to stand up?' said Freddy.
Frank gave him a hand up. 'Now let us arrange some drinks,' said Frank as if nothing strange had just happened. 'We need to toast this fine day!'
Frank popped open an old bottle of whiskey and started to pour away.
Freddy and Frank shared a glass each while Vincent insisted on drinking from the bottle. It was just his way.
'You are very good with computers aren't you, Vincent?' said Frank sipping his drink.
'Well seeing as it is the only thing I can do I bloody well should be good with computers,' Vincent replied mordantly. 'That is my life these days. Sat on the damn computer day after day.'
'You have the cable setup yet?'
'Fully installed.'
Frank told Freddy that the brewery they owned was setup with cameras and they could watch everything from the computer in the office. 'As part of the new deal the Italians have promised to protect the brewery and the warehouse, but I like to keep my own eye on my business. I cannot take the risk of my enemies trying to harm my property. There is a war going on out there, Freddy, and I will not let my enemies take me by surprise!'
Just at that very second the phone rang...
Frank picked the phone up and put it back down again.
He looked a little shaky...
'It's uncle McGregor!' he said. 'He's been attacked...'
'This calls for blood!' Vincent cried.
'Do we know who did it?' said Freddy.
'I don't care. I will get em all,' Vincent replied fiercely. 'Alright Freddy boy!' continued the fat man. 'It's time to buckle up for a mad ride! You want to prove yourself to the Kings, right? Yes? Good, then follow me to the car. I will drive. See that case over there. Pick it up. Be careful. It's full of inflammable bottles. We are going to start a fire tonight my boy!'
Poor Freddy didn't even get to drink his whiskey before he was being whisked down the road in a car being driven by a madman who couldn't walk!
(Remember! All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)
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