It Happens At Night 9: The WORST Spy to ever live...

Freddy was walking back to his home which was a toilet when a great shadow stepped out from a corner somewhere and pulled him by his shoulders right over to one side.

  The figure was very tall, spindly, spider-like and pale of skin.  In the darkness it looked like a giant spider was slopping randomly around.  

  Freddy's first thoughts were these:

  'The Grim Reaper has finally caught up with me.  It's over now!  I am going to die!'

  A nearby street light shed same light on Freddy's abductor and it turned out to be his old Uncle Lucien.  So no, it was not the Grim Reaper, grim Mr Death, but easily the next best thing then.

  'You will regret turning against me Freddy,' said the shadowy, cobweb-addled man.

  'I didn't turn against you,' Freddy replied.  'I have just moved on with my life.  I have a new business now and new friends.  It's just how things go.  We change, we make new friends.'

  'It's always been you and I, Freddy.  I am the hand and you are the glove.  We are one.  A cat cannot be a cat without its claws, and Lucien cannot be himself without his dear nephew - armed with a shovel!  We need each other.'

  'No we don't!  I keep telling you I have new friends now and they are a good bunch of lads!'

  'They will betray you.  Everyone you have ever known even your own wife has stabbed you in the back.  You should know that there is only one person you can rely on in life and that is the man you are looking at right now.'

  'O come on Uncle!  You daft twat!  There is NO love loss between us.  Let's be honest with one another here.  We have never got on with one another, not really.  We are not even mates.  You bully and push me around.  You used me because you can't dig up graves.  Well I have had enough and I am cancelling our business arrangement.  It's over, Lucien.  Accept it and move on with your life...  or at least what's left of it.'

  'You are going to regret dealing with me in this way.'

  'What is there to regret, Uncle?  O I am going to really miss getting my hands dirty at the back of some crypt every night, yeah, great laugh.  So much fun!  Sod off, you creep.  I am not doing it no more.  Dig your own graves.'

  'Fine.  Have it your way.  But let me give you a gentle warning, young nephew of mine: there are strange powers at work in the world.  I have seen evil spirits at work outside of my very window.  Dark powers have been awoken.  This town is cursed.  It's broken.  I am old and past caring what happens to me, but thee, young, Freddy, are still young and you should be afraid.'

  'Leave me alone you weird bloody idiot,' Freddy returned aggressively and he pushed the old creep back into the darkness of an unlit alley and ran away back home to the vacant toilet where he lived his life.

* * *

'Look at that strange lonely fellow sat over there.  He hasn't said a word since he arrived, hasn't ordered a drink either,' said McGregor.

  'I don't think I have seem him before either,' Freddy replied.

  'He hasn't moved.  What a really weird guy...'

  'He is creeping me out.  Do you actually think he is alive?' said Freddy.

  'I don't know.  Do you want to go over and check?'

  'NO.  Not yet.  Let's just wait and see if he does anything.  I mean he can't just sit there forever he is going to have to move at some time?  I mean every man has to use a cloakroom, right?  Look at me I live in one!'

  'But what if he is actually dead?'

  'I don't think he is dead.  He still has colour in his cheeks.'

  'Look at him with his suit and his glasses, and he is holding a briefcase...  What is he up to?'

  'He could be a student.  Maybe he is doing research.'

  'Research?  Here in Fenwick?  He chose the worst town for that kind of thing.  I am worried he might be a spy working for one of the gangs...'

  'O no!  I don't think so.  If he was a spy he wouldn't just sit there looking so weird and stupid.  He would try to be your friend, smuggle himself into the business, look for a job.  He would try to get to know you and find out about what you do.  He wouldn't just sit there like that looking so strange.'

  'He is like a man cooked on G-Juice!'

  'Exactly.  Maybe that's it!  Maybe he is just drunk?  It could be something innocent like that.  Just because he looks like a strange creep doesn't mean to say he is evil or anything.  He could just be a drunken dog looking for some sympathy and an ear or two to share.'

  'I hope you are right Freddy,' McGregor responded.

  Just then the stranger terrified both men by suddenly standing up and walking over to them.

  He introduced himself as Wuan, and snapped open his briefcase.

  This is what he had to say:

  'I am Wuan Yea and I own the little gas station across the road from here and I would like to offer you fine gentlemen a free gift.'

  'That's very nice of you so long as it is not a gun or something crazy like that,' McGregor replied cautiously.

  Wuan brought up a good-sized glass bottle brimming with a dark green liquid...

  Freddy was confused but McGregor knew what was in that bottle and the old man gasped with amazement.

  'That is a bottle of original G-Juice?'

  'Yes.  A 1991 bottle to be precise.'

  'No way!  I have never seen a bottle like this before.  I didn't think it was real!' said McGregor with a stammer.  The old wily war veteran had literally been knocked off of his feet at the sight of the green juice!

  The old Scot asked Wuan where he managed to get the bottle from, and Mr Yea replied:

  'It is taken from my private collection, Mr McGregor.  I have been collecting since two thousand and seven.  My collection is quite robust and well supplied.  Here, Mr McGregor take the bottle.  If you cannot bring yourself to open and drink it then put it on one of your shelves for show!'

  'So you have more bottles of this Green Juice?'

  'Yes.  And they are very well hidden and serve as part of my secret collection...'

  'You should be careful, Mr Yea,' McGregor replied carefully hiding the bottle behind his bar.  'These are mean streets and there are men out there who would be willing to fight your for a bottle of the Green G-Juice.'

  'O I am counting on it, Mr McGregor.  Goodnight.'

  And with that the strange little man left the building.

  'Follow him Freddy,' said McGregor the next day.

  The Scot had been thinking about the little man who ran the gas station ALL NIGHT and had been unable to sleep because of it.

  A bottle of original green?

  How was it possible?

  The little man had to be up to some kind of mischief!

  'He must have a lab and is cooking the stuff,' McGregor went on.  'There are no more bottles of green left.  They all got broken when the castle was raided back in the day.  No.  I don't accept this nonsense.  I want you to watch Mr Wuan, Freddy.  That is your new job from now on.'

  'O please don't make me do this Mr McGregor!' Freddy whined in a wet feeble voice.  'Anything but this.  I don't want to spy on that creepy little guy.  I will do any other job.  I will empty the bins I will clean the toilets...'

  'Freddy you are going to spy on Wuan!'

  DAMN!

That evening Freddy paid the gas station a little visit...

  'Nice shop you run here, Wuan, what do you sell?' Freddy started.  His plan was to keep cool and calm, and try not to say anything stupid.  'The shelves are looking pretty empty?  Stocking up?'

  'It is not what I sell on the shelves people are interested in,' Wuan replied, coolly.  'It is what I keep below in the dark hidden away that people really want.'

  'Are you talking about G-Juice?'

  'Of course.  Why else would you be here trying to make conversation with me Mr Colden?  It's all about the G-Juice, right?'

  'That was a very impressive bottle you gifted my friend yesterday,' said Freddy.  'A bottle of the green has not been seen not in many years.'

  'Indeed.  Not since 1991,' Wuan returned calmly.  'It is not the only bottle that I have.  You look thirsty Freddy, can I offer you a nice little drink?'

  'Wouldn't that be inappropriate?'

  'My dear Mr Colden.  It is the year 2025.  What isn't inappropriate?  Wait here, kindly, and I will fetch you a good drink.'

  ‘O very well, if you insist.’

  Freddy still had his mission on his mind, and he thought that maybe a little compliance might win his ear a closer peer into Wuan’s mind and schemes…

  Freddy also fancied a drink - a drink of anything just something to ease is hefty depression.

  And it was not before long that Wuan returned propping up a large bottle of the proper green G-Juice on the counter.  Eventually the bottle was uncorked and soon a glass was being filled up.

  ‘The bottle was sealed with French wax,’ Wuan explained as he poured the green flow.  ‘Now this is a very important vintage of G-Juice.  There is a romance connected to the story of its creation.  In the early nineties there was said to be a madman living in a train who had the recipe for the juice in his hands, and he did a deal with Europe for the production of three hundred bottles of the 91 green.  He shared the recipe with three men with who owned distilleries in France, Belgium and Switzerland.  By 2001 those three men had died, and the recipe for the green was lost.  But the three hundred bottles remain out there, hidden in the alps.  Here try some.  Your lips will be the first to taste this fluid beyond the likes of kings and queens.  Enjoy!’

  There is an old saying that is well known even in 2025, “It will knock your socks off!”  

  Well…  That is how Freddy felt after gushing that first glass of green G-Juice down his gullet.

  The first thing Freddy realised, after ingesting the drink, is how bloody miserable and terrible and truly  unhappy he felt before BECAUSE after that first drink Freddy had his first ever experience of feeling TRUE happiness.  Bliss even!  (And this was at the age of forty).

  He had never felt happy like this before.  Never before.  Not before that first drink.

  He needed to have another one…

  This feeling of happiness… WOW!  It was worth…  Well it was worth anything!

  Worth dying for?  O hell yes!

  ‘I will pour you another drink, Mr Colden, but first you must listen to my story.’

  DAMN!

  Worth dying for?  Okay.  I will listen to your stupid story.  Go on!

  ‘From the age of 8 I knew that I was depressed,’ said Wuan.  ‘My grandparents told me, “You cannot be depressed at such a young age!”  But I was depressed.  I was more than that.  I was broken.  Even a young person can be broken.  The only difference between a young broken man and an old broken man is that there is still time left for recovery, to rebuild.’

  ‘Wuan.  I like you.  I would like to be your friend.  But I really think you should be telling all of this stuff to your doctor!”

  ‘I’ve tried Doctors.  But I find quiet shadows in quiet corners serve far better as ears,’ Wuan returned, calmly and then the little man started chanting eerily:

  Shadows never speak back.

  Shadows never speak rubbish.

  Shadows are what they are.

  Shadows are better.

  Wuan continued his tale:

  ‘My depression reached such a desperate state that at the tender age of twelve I knew that there was no reality out there except sadness.  Sadness was the only truth.  And by the time I turned fourteen I adopted the robes of a professional alcoholic.  I drank whiskey from the bottle.  It was good to begin with.  I loved it!  I was finally in love with something.  I fell in love with hard whiskey.  But then the dark times came.  Alcohol has a way of dong that - it tricks you.  Makes you think everything is good at the start.  It is your friend one minute and your enemy the next.  In five years since I began my love affair with whiskey I was waking up with cold sweats and night terrors.  Then I had delirium tremens.  I saw demons.  I saw a shadow lord one night, counting all of my twelve empty whiskey bottles on my desk with its red eyes and its glowing claws!  I was in despair.  But then one day my life turned around.  It changed for the better.  My life changed because of love.  Love for G-Juice.  O yes, Mr Colden.  I found it.  They green stuff.  It changed everything for me.  It changed how I looked at the world.  Now I could get drunk without the consequences.  No more nasty hangovers!  No night terrors...  And I drank and I drank until I suddenly deiced I was going to sell the stuff so that other people like me, who are miserable, can finally be happy.  That’s my tale, Mr Colden.  Now I will pour.’

  And Freddy drank.

  O the sweet ecstasy! 

  The feeling of G-Juice in the belly was beyond anything Freddy had ever experienced before. 

  Now that Freddy was fully and hopelessly drunk on the green Mr Yea had this to say:

  ‘I will continue to pour, Mr Colden, more and more, so long as you refuse to snore, and adore my words more and more.  Will you listen to me?’

  ‘Yes I will MR…Wuan…yoo… whatever,’ said the drunken slobe.

  ‘I will pour you as much juice as you like, Mr Colden.  So long as you work for me.  I have a job for you.’

  ‘A job?  O yay!  I can't wait!’

  ‘I want you to spy on the King family.  You can do this?  You are in with them, yes?  Tell me all that you now.  Can you do this for me, Mr Colden?’

  ‘Now listen!’ and that little tiny vanishing bit of sobriety in Freddy’s soul snapped back, ‘I can’t betray the Kings!  They have done so much for me!  I am working for them now.  I share their business and all.’

  ‘And that is why I want you to work for me as a spy.’

  ‘I can’t do it Wuan!’

  ‘But you want the delicious taste of G-Juice again on your tongue don’t you, Freddy?  Now you have a taste for it you need it, right?  And I have it, O I have so much of it.  And it is all yours Freddy.  Just share the whispers of the Kings hall with me!’

  ‘I will spy on them!’

  ‘Good man.  Now sheer up!  Here is another glass.  Drink.  Now go home.’

  Freddy tried to go home.

  But he couldn’t.

  He fell over somewhere in some street, and woke up somewhere else, possibly hours later, and he was in complete darkness.

  Good lord?  Am I finally dead?  Am I lost and stuck in purgatory?

  No it would turn out to be worse than that.

  There would be light, finally, but that was only when the trunk was open.

  Freddy was stuck in the boot of a car and several rough men started to pull him out.

  It looked like he had been captured!

  Freddy was pulled up and dragged out like a dirty old trunk full of junk.  Then he was thrown down on the floor.  Slowly finding himself again Freddy stood up and finally and with vast unhappiness met his grim captor:  

  O yes it was non other than Corta Boa Almoço.

  ‘Found you sleeping on the street again,’ said Corta, ‘on my street.  You dog!  You gonna bark, dog, like you did the other day in the Scotch Bar?  Do it.  Bark!  No.  You are going to yelp.  Yelp like a loser.  A loser who has lost their legs.  I dig a hole for you dog,’ he went on.  ‘I put you in it.  You die.  What you say now, you little English pig?’

  ‘Don’t kill me Corta I beg you!’ said Freddy in a sad, stupid, wet slippery rubbish excuse of a voice.  ‘I didn’t mean to speak smack to you back at the Bar.  I was just drunk.  I am dumb and foolish, you know that.  You can have my wife.  Take her.  She’s yours.  Just ket me live.  Please don’t kill me like this I beg you!’

  Corta slapped Freddy around the face for a few times and then he said this:

  ‘If ever wanted you dead I would kill you.'

  'So you are really going to let me live?'

  Corta punched Freddy in the face.  'You do not speak unless I tell you.  Comprende?  Good.  Now listen!  You friends with Italians, yes?  If you spy on them then and I let you live.  You spy on them and you find me in my crib and you yelp, dog.  You yelp.  And I do not need your permission to take your wife, dog.  She is already mine.  I take everything from you, dog.  I own you.  Now bow!’  He gave Freddy one final punch to the face and another punch to the gut for good measure.

  Corta dropped Freddy in the hole, and left him there.

  A few hours later, when he realised again that he was actually able to walk, Freddy return to the Scotch Bar.  

  ‘How’s your day been Freddy?’ said McGregor while drying down a glass.  

  ‘Just another day being an accountant,’ Freddy replied in a soggy and defeated way.

  ‘Do you hold these accountancy meetings of yours in a field?’ said McGregor checking out Freddy’s dirty suit.  ‘You are covered in mud son!  You are always covered in mud!'

  ‘It’s been a hard day that's all,’ Freddy replied weakly.

  ‘There are hard days boy and then there are real HARD days.  And the day you have had looks to have been beyond hard,’ said McGregor and then he continued:

  ‘Here, son, as a treat, enjoy this glass of water.  Don’t worry about opening that purse of yours!  This cup of water is on the house.  I know.  I am so generous.  Now get down into that basement and get some sleep in that toilet down there.  The spiders could do with the company.’

  Freddy took a sip of his cold water drink and went downstairs to sleep in a dark cobwebbed drenched room.

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

Previous part here

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

Jim's Subway part 1

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