Dunno Yet

CHAPTER ONE

         A short while ago, in a house far, far away from where you are sitting right now (unless of course, you happen to live nearby, then it won’t be far away at all) there was a man living by himself. The town that this house was in is called Melsville by mapmakers, and Shitsville by the inhabitants with the levels of stupidity required to actually be living there in the first place.

         It was not a bad house, by most people’s standards. A tad difficult to locate at a cursory glance, due to it’s extraordinary ability to look as if nobody could possibly want to reside there.

         However, it makes up for this inconvenience with it’s astonishing architecture. Whilst the outside of most houses usually go for the traditional effect of having being built by construction experts and builders who know what the fuck they’re doing, this particular specimen has the distinct, aesthetically pleasing “thrown together” look of a piece of work that took 2 minutes to complete when it should have taken 200.

         Star shaped designs in the windows, patterns formed by missing bricks, gutters in unimaginable places and the outstandingly original lack of half the roof tiiling were mere side effects of the house-building iguanas’ efforts. You just wait until you get inside (though i strongly advise you don’t, the quality of the structure may overwhelm you at first, plus the place might fall in on you if you make any sudden moves).

         Mark Smith Von Shizzle, the only known inhabitant of this inspiring building, was sitting in his kitchen busy doing absolutely nothing. You may wonder  why he was doing nothing, but you see, if he went out and got a job, he would not be eligible for unemployment benefits, so he would be earning less from working than he would from not working. That is the way things work in this beautiful country. So either he is a fanatical anarchist rebelling against the system of corrupt government to slowly destroy it from the inside and free the lives of his fellow Englishmen everywhere, or he just couldn’t be bothered to get a job. I’ll let you decide which one, as long as you pick the latter.

         Rising from his chair (which was exceedingly fortunate, because statisticians have shown that this chair will instantly collapse if Mark sits on it for a another few seconds). Furniture companies make chairs this way, in order that Mark will have to buy a new one, as part of the elaborate scheme that most companies adopt to make yet more money for themselves, following the well-known Robin Hood style of stealing from the poor so that the rich can stuff their faces and line their pockets.

         Now fully erect (no not like that, as in standing up, what kind of book do you think this is?) he proceeded to take a dump, then sit back down again on the same chair (which stayed intact, perhaps proving my theory about money-grabbing companies wrong), whilst marvelling at the ingenuity of having his toilet in the same room as his kitchen (along with his bedroom and living room).

         On an impulse, Mark decided to venture outdoors based on the notion that it couldn’t be much worse (another good thing about houses like these is that it makes one appreciate the outside world more). Putting on his shoes and walking outside, the slam of the door was closely followed by the sound of the chair collapsing, and the maniacal laughter of a furniture salesman.

         While walking along the wasteland that served as the front garden of his house, Mark Smith Von Shizzle pondered over past memories.

         Mark was born to an extremely poor family. He was given as much love and care as his parents could provide, but this wasn’t very sufficient as his father was a raging alchoholic and his mother an incompetent, sorry excuse for a human being. Their neglect became even worse when Mark turned 16, as they were both dead, crushed by a bus shelter, and it is a well known fact that dead people don’t make particularly proficient parents. Mark wasn’t too pleased about the death of his parents (not a lot of people are), but when he realised he wouldn’t have to suffer constant mental and physical abuse anymore, be beaten up by his dad, and be fed dog food by his mother, he stopped mourning pretty quickly. Plus, he could stay up as late as he wanted.

         So Mark was left on his own at 16 years old; with nothing left to remember his parents by but their shithole of a house, and a shitload of inheritance tax that, accumulated, almost definitely cost him more than the value of the house.

         Mark had gone to Primary and Secondary school, and he did surprisingly well in his exams, considering he was extremely careless. He constantly lost his revision notes and coursework, not to mention both of his parents. But he could not carry on with his education because he didn’t have money to buy the basic necessities: food, water, condoms (may be inconvenient but can save you a hell of a lot of money in the long run), tv licence, clothes etc, so Mark Smith (minus the von shizzle, i’ll explain very soon) went job hunting. However, he soon discovered the benefits of unemployment benefits, and decided he didn’t really need to contribute anything to society after all.

         Mark had had a few meaningless relationships, including one with a girl called Michelle, who became his fiancé, both at the age of 23. Mark was originally christened Mark Smith, but Michelle didn’t particularly appreciate his last name, thinking it boring and unoriginal, so Mark decided to surprise her by changing it to Smith Von Shizzle. She dumped him within the hour.

         Mark concluded that in the 35 years of his life, he’d done fuck all. He wanted to make something of himself! He didn’t want his gravestone to say “R.I.P Mark Smith Von Shizzle- some dude who accomplished nothing”. Maybe he should write a novel- a good one, so you don’t have to read pieces of shit like this one. Maybe save up, or continue with further education. Learn to play an instrument, get a job, something! After considering this for a while, Mark decided that those were options, but quite frankly, he couldn’t be bothered. “Fuck that” he thought.
“Fuck that” He said. “Methinks I’ll go see my mate Eddie instead.”

         Mark looked up and saw that his aimless wanderings had actually taken him to the doorstep of Eddie’s house. How convenient, this has enabled me to actually reach a turning point, or event, in my so-called story rather than just rant constantly and pointlessly throughout. Didn’t think i could do it did ya’? Well, don’t get used to it anyhow.

         Mark surveyed Eddie’s humble abode with a quick glance. It was not a bad house, by most people’s standards....astonishing architecture......”thrown together” look......mentally impaired iguanas.... blah blah blah, you get the point. I think it will save both my time and yours if we leave the appearance of Eddie’s accomadation up to you imagination. Don’t get used to that either though. Otherwise i could just leave the entire story up to your imagination, then there wouldn’t be a book at all would there?

         Mark knocked on the door and waited for a reply.

CHAPTER TWO

         A large, somewhat gormless looking man lumbered to the door and looked through the glass. “Who’s der?”  he called out.
“Mark” Mark replied
“Mark who?”
“Mark Smith von Shizzle!” Mark Smith von Shizzle exclaimed exasperatedly “just open the bloody door.”

         There was a long pause in which mysterious ticking noises and whirring sounds could be heard coming from Eddie’s head. Perhaps, Mark thought, if Eddie’s brain spent less time making all that bloody racket and more time thinking, I wouldn’t have to do this all the time. “Oi!” The reply finally came through the door. “That weren’t funny! You ain’t coming in until you make me laugh! Eddie likes knock knock jokes."

         Mark let out a long, done-this-so-many-times-before-do-i-really-have-to-do-another-stupid-joke-to-make-my-mentally-derranged-friend-open-the-damn-door sigh (not to be confused with the whats-the-point-of-life-i-am-going-to-jump-off-of-this-building-right-now or the god-damn-it-the-milk-has-run-out-again sigh), then knocked on the door again.

“Who’s there” came the excited reply.
“I’m a j-” Mark replied.
“I’m a j-who? Hey, im not a Jew! You made me say I’m a Jew! You is well funny Mark! I’m not a Jew, but you made me say I is!” Eddie cried through peals of laughter.
“Jesus Christ” Mark breathed, rolling his eyes and leaning against the front door, “Im getting cold, let-”

         His demand turned into a cry of surprise as Mark realised the door had been on the latch the whole time, and it fell open, banging loudly against the wall, and leaving Mark windmilling his arms and falling onto the welcome mat (or where the welcome mat would have been in a slightly more respectable household). Flat on his face on the carpet (reminiscent of the FeBreeze advert with a bunch of people sniffing the carpets) Mark spat out a mouthful of God-knows-what and looked across to see Eddie sliding down with his back against the wall crying and shaking with laughter. Upon seeing that Eddie had pissed himself a little from laughing, Mark closed his eyes and banged his head against the floor several times in mock frustration.

         When he looked up, Eddie was looking curiously at him. “What you doin’ on the floor Mark? Geddup” and with that he skipped heavily away.
“Shut up and get me a beer” Mark replied as helabariously pulled himself to his feet, only to get his right foot caught in one of those plastic ties which one always gets their foot caught in, knocking over an empty beer can as he flailed his arms wildly for balance again.

         As he regained his footing, Mark wondered why he bothered coming. Eddie was very clumsy and stupid, and Mark hated having to tell the knock knock jokes, but despite Eddie’s flaws, Mark still loved him like the family he never had. Plus, Eddie forgot the jokes after a while and Mark could tell some of the same ones again.

         The hallway was covered in Eddie’s dirty clothing and rubbish. Mark concentrated on doing his slow, careful, moonwalk/hop/tango type dance to avoid the obstacles and further serious injury. After finally getting to the end of the short hallway, Mark leaned against the doorframe and did his thank-God-its-over sigh. “Catch!” Eddie then shouted.

         Now, with anybody else, catching a beer bottle thrown by them would not have been a serious problem. However, throwing things accurately is not one of Eddie’s talents (infact, not many things at all are one of Eddie’s talents). The result of this was that the bottle was wildly off target, around knee height and a metre or two to Mark’s right. To prevent the glass from smashing and the beer soaking into the already-saturated carpet, Mark was forced to dive/twist/fall over/fly towards the bottle and catch it. This would have been feasible, as Mark is an athletic man with relatively quick reactions, had it not been for the fact that all the maneuvering between sets of unwashed clothing had loosened his trousers and he had not noticed they were down to his knees. The result was a cross between a hurdler in the special Olympics and a man with no arms and no legs being forced to run a marathon.

         Mark hit the wall headfirst, and crumpled into a heap on the floor, bruising his shoulder, almost twisting his ankle, received a huge headache and dislodging a pair of soiled underpants which fell onto his head. (he did catch the beer though).

         Mark was now very bruised and battered. He didn’t think this day could get much worse. He carefully got up, walked over to Eddie one step at a time, and sat down gratefully on the seat in front of him.

         The chair promptly crumbled into dust.

         Mark lay there on his bum, arms and legs in the air, trousers round his ankles, a pair of underpants on his head, with the aftertaste of god-knows-what in his mouth, bruised arms, shoulders and pelvis, head injuries which could cause minor brain damage and an overwhelming urge to just shoot himself and get it over and done with. Finally, to top it all off, his beer lay smashed on the floor from his fall.

         Eddie hurried over to his pile of clothes, placed another pair of underpants on his head and danced around the room.

CHAPTER THREE

         “Soooo” Mark slurred, lurching towards Eddie and spilling half the contents of his drink in the process. “I think... might be little bit tipsy, now you mention it.”
“Eddie drunk too!” Eddie exclaimed. Eddie was not really drunk. He had drank exactly the same as Mark. Same brand, same amount. However, Eddie was a much bigger man than Mark, and while Mark was insuperably intoxicated, Eddie was no more affected in the brain than he ever was. Eddie wasn’t always sure how to behave, so he just did what Mark did. Seemed quite logical to him.

         Eddie wore the same clothes as Mark, spoke the same way, drank and ate the same things. In fact, Eddie only stocked Mark’s favourite things in his house. Eddie seemd to have a limitless supply of Shitsville’s special brand- Poobeer. It is a mystery to me (and you’re not gonna find out from anybody else, so it’s probably a mystery to you too) why these two men are such close friends, but they are, so deal with it. Bitch.

         The front door of Eddie’s house banged open, and Mark burst drunkenly out of it, nearly tripping over the plastic tie again. Whilst feeding the withered, drooping plants with his own vomit (if they weren’t dead already, they will be soon), Mark remembered his day yesterday. He remembered that he had got up, took a dump, sat back down, walked out of his house, walked to Eddie’s house, told a knock-knock joke, got pissed, fed the plants, and pondered over the day before yesterday. Realising that he did exactly the same things every day, albeit with a different knock-knock joke, Mark marvelled at the simplicity of his life (he did that yesterday too).

         Mark raised his eyes up from the floor to look towards the sky. On their way there, they noticed a man standing somewhere in between the sky and the ground. Mark wasn’t in a position to argue with his eyes right now, so he acknowledged the man with a drunken nod. (Isn’t it weird how something always seems to happen after Mark thinks about things? It’s a good thing that guys like Mark, or most guys his age for that matter, don’t do a terrible lot of thinking, otherwise our lives would be excruciatingly eventful).
“Good Heavens! You look the epitome of Death! Are you alright young man? A tad down in the dumps there? Listen, could you assist me for a moment? Perhaps give me a clue regarding my current location?”
“What the fu-” was Mark’s simple reply.
“I mean, could you possibly tell me where i am, furthermore i would appreciate it if you refrained from using that kind of language around me. My dear mother does not approve”

         Mark urged his eyes to focus as much as they possibly good in his current state, and looked hard at the man standing in front of him. He was tall and handsome with a boyish face, rosy cheeks and short, brown hair. He looked about 30 years old. His crisply clean suit and perfectly styled hair made him stand out among the downtrodden area and the lumps of shit walking around (although some readers may wish to refer to them as people). Offering a perfectly manicured and cleansed hand, he helped Mark to his feet. “Excuse my manners, even though you were not exactly King Polite yourself, i completely forgot to introduce myself! My name is Lord Lillibert.”
“Lord fucking Lilibert? Is this a joke or are you just a figment of my imagination?”
“I’m perfectly real i will have you know, i helped you stand up not five seconds ago, without receiving any thanks, i might add. Now desist questioning my obvious reality in this manner, and tell me where the bloody hell i am, you silly bugger.” At that, Mark spat in the man’s face and stalked off back to his own house to get some rest. Lord Lillibert, shaking with expensive, upper-class rage, tapped on the door of Eddie’s house.

CHAPTER FOUR

         The next morning, Mark knocked on the door of Eddie’s house again, expecting to have another few round of drinks and unintelligent conversation and was surprised to see it open instantly. He was yet more surprised to be greeted by Lord Lillibert. Mark was infinitely more surprised (maybe i should pick up a theasaurus, that word is getting a little repetitive, but hey, a lot of writers whose names i won’t mention would benefit from the ability to put the thesaurus down every once in a while) when he glimpsed the disgusting scene behind Lillibert.

         Mark slowly stepped onto the threshold, lightly pyshing the Lord to the side, causing him to fall over backwards, slide on a recently varnished floor and land amongst 10 bottles of cleaning fluid, knocking them all over. “Strike!” Eddie exclaimed, with unimaginable enthusiasm.

“Wh-wha-what IS this?!” The place was overwhelmingly clean. Mark had never witnessed this disgusting level of cleanliness before; he was almost blinded by it. His gasp of horror preceeded the frustrated shout that made Lilibert start with fright. The piles of dirty clothes that for decades lay on the floor were nowhere in sight. The carpet and walls were completely visible and their original colour. It was sickening.
“Are you alright Eddie? And just what the fuck are you doing here!” Mark shouted, turning to Lord Lilibert.
“Please calm down and allow me to justify myself. I happen to know some rather amusing knock knock jokes from some acquaintances who visit my mansion occasionally. After knocking on Eddie here’s front door, he invited me to reiterate one of those knock knock jokes; so i complied. He then allowed me to rest for the night until you came here today in order to decide what to do with me. I cannot stand uncleanliness, so in return for Eddie’s overwhelming hospitality, i tidied up a little bit. Do you not like it?”
“Just.... just shut up for a sec dude” Mark paused to collect his thoughts. “So why were you knocking on Eddie’s door anyway?”

         Lilibert hurriedly got up from the floor, stood on a broom, causing the handle to hit him in the face with a resounding smack. Eddie giggled. Lilibert rubbed his nose and smoothed down his suit. It was amazing how it had stayed so magnificently clean after being thrown up on, spat on, spent the night in and doused in years of accumulated grime and dirt from the depths of  Eddie’s house. Lilibert took a deep breath. “Well...” he  started.
“No. Forget i asked. I don’t freaking care anymore.” Mark was going slightly purple, spittle flying from various orifices, eyes wider than a prisoner’s arse, fists clenched, he was, needless to say, a frightening spectacle. “I don’t know who the hell you are, and i don’t care. But i don’t like you, and NOBODY takes advantage of Eddie here. Ever! You hear me?” Lilibert mumbled something incomprehensible.
“I said, do you fucking hear me you goddamn son of a bitch!” Mark screamed with rage, grabbing Lilibert by the throat and violently shoving him against the wall, shaking the entire building with the the force (Though it doesn’t take a lot to shake buildings like those. Most iguanas, especially the mentally impaired variety, are none too brilliant at making buildings completely shockproof).

         Mark pulled back his arm in order to punch Lilibert in the face, but was prevented from doing so by Eddie pushing him back. “Eddie, i don’t know what this guy wants, but i don’t like it.”
“Lor-Lili-li-lil.... Bert is Eddie’s friend. Eddie likes Bert. I won’t let you hurt Bert, Mark is my very best friend, but Bert is Eddie’s only other friend.” The Lord winced at each use of the name Bert, but was nevertheless appreciative of Eddie’s defence.
“Alright Eddie. I won’t hurt the guy.” Mark dropped Lilibert onto the floor, prompting a cry of surprise and pain on impact.

CHAPTER FIVE

         “So...Bert” Mark smirked. “What’s your story?” (Lord Lilibert will be referred to as Bert from now on, partly because Mark knows it annoys him, but mostly because it’s marginally quicker for me to write, and i am a lazy bastard, as you might have guessed from the quality of this book. I don’t quite know why i called him Lord Lilibert in the first place, what kind of parents would name their child by that name anyway? Originally in this part i went off on some rant about    parents who name their kids stupid names like Peaches or Metallica, but i deleted it, so you can let out that breath you were holding, while i get on with the original story). Mark, Eddie and Bert were sitting in Eddie’s now spotless living room on the remains of broken chairs, in the dark. They were in the dark because light bulbs work on the same principle as the chairs, they break after a while for no reason so you gotta buy new ones. Perhaps that’s why people die. If God had made humans all last forever, we wouldn’t have to keep making new ones. God’s will can be very inconvenient sometimes.

“Well....” Bert started, recoiling at the memory of what happened the last time he said that. “I don’t have the slightest idea.”
“What?!”
“Now, okay, just calm down please. I went to sleep in my lovely four poster bed in my gorgeous mansion, and when i woke up outside your house, to the sight of you vomiting everywhere. I seriously have no knowledge regarding the events that led to me waking up here.” Mark felt he should have been suspiscous of Bert, but there was something quite believable about his story. Plus, it’s my book, and im telling you straight that Bert is telling the truth, so there. (Unless of course, i’m lying too.)
“So, what do you want from us?” Mark said.
“Well, tell me where i am for a start.” Bert replied, albeit with posher words that i couldn’t be bothered to think of.
“You’re in a place called Melsville.”
“Well my manor house is in the county of Berkshire. Do you have any information as to  how long it would take me to travel there?”
“Berkshire? What you gonna use?”
“Well, i fail to see where i can discover a usable vehicle around this area, so i will have to resort to public transport” At the word public transport, Mark almost started throwing up again.
“Public transport? Well if the trains have no delays, it should take you around ten hours to get there. So with the current system of public transport, you would be lucky to get there by the end of next year.”
“I cannot possibly wait that long. There must be some other way, and once i get there, it may be feasible to gather evidence about who did this to me.”
“We’ll help” Eddie said. Bert laughed.
“There’s no way Mark would agree to that.”
“Yea i’ll help you” Mark said.
“Really?”
“Why not, ain’t got anythin’ better to do, may as well help.”
“Thank you! That’s the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me!” Bert exclaimed, hugging Mark and Eddie in turn. “Will you not find it difficult to eat, or do anything that includes the use of money?”
“Nahhh.” Mark replied. “As long as we can leech off the corrupt government, we’re fine”
“Oh, so you don’t need to borrow any mon-”
“Well, no, I didn’t say that”
“I seem to recall you doing exactly that”
“No i didn’t”
“Yes you did”
“No i didn’t” Mark replied.
“Yes you did”
“Look are you gonna give us money or not?”

         So Mark and Eddie stuffed their pockets with as much of Bert’s cash as possible, and they set off on their journey. They didn’t bother with maps because they didn’t have any idea what route they were taking, and quite frankly, neither do i (GOOD writers do research about this kind of stuff, but i obviously haven’t written books before, i’ve hardly got a lot to live up to). “So, how are we actually planning to get there anyway?” Bert inquired.
“Why, walking of course!”
“Pardon? I cannot possibly walk that far!”
“Got any better ideas, you posh twat?”
“No, but i expected you might have a better plan, after offering to help me, you disgusting excuse for a human being”
“Stop fighting!” Eddie shouted.
“Dickhead” Mark muttered darkly to nobody in particular.
“Bloody idiot” Bert whispered under his breath.
“Stupid homo”
“Silly git”
“I said stop it!”

         Bert, Mark and Eddie continued walking in an utterly random direction for about an hour. As Bert and Mark quietly despised one another, and Eddie wasn’t exactly the greatest of conversationalists, they walked in complete silence.

         After a while they realised that they wouldnn’t actually get anywhere by just walking in a random direction, they might be going even further away from Berkshire. So being men, they stopped and ask for directions. They knocked on the door of the nearest house, and it opened to reveal the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. It’s like she was created just for the purpose of provoking these men’s interests.

         You might say that her radiant appearance made the area actually look almost like a nice place to be, because of the way she lights it up. However, i believe it simply makes it look even worse in comparision, if that’s possible. I will not even attempt to describe her, as her beauty is too great for a writer of my less than mediocre talents to put into words.

         The three men stared intently at her with mouths wide open. She smiled prettily at them, although slightly uncomfortable at their obvious admiration.
“I.... what is the phrase you people use? I call...shotgun, is it?” Bert whispered sideways to Mark. He then advanced towards the door with his hand outstretched (to shake hands, nothing more). “Many cheerful greetings to you my dear. My name is Lo-” He was sharply cut off by his cry of surprise as Mark deftly pushed him aside and into a nearby dustbin.

         “I’m Mark. How you doin’?”
“I’m doing fine, thank you! My name’s Jess”
“Pretty name”
“Thank you. May i ask why you were knocking on my door?”
“Sincerest apologies for the inconvenience Madame,” Bert piped up, rising from the dustbin with his suit still mysteriously clean, “but we merel-” he was cut off yet again as Mark pushed him backwards over Eddie, who was crawling on the floor searching for tomato ketchup.
“We’re walking to Berkshire. We stopped to ask for directions” Mark said in a self satisfied voice.
“Walking to Berkshire? Don’t be ridiculous!” Come in.” They came in.
“Don’t be scared” She said to Eddie, who was hiding behind Mark with a bashful expression on his face. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Eddie” He replied nervously.
“And you?” She asked Bert
“My name is Lor-”
“His name’s Bert.” Mark interjected.
“Bert! I like it, it’s very.... masculine” Bert went very red.
“My name does inspire a higher class quality and-” Bert began to agree.
“I thought you said you didn’t like it!” Eddie interrupted. Bert went even redder and gave Eddie a playful punch, almost breaking half his fingers in the process. Eddie brushed his shoulder, convinced a fly had landed on him. Jess laughed. It was music to the guys’ ears. No, it was better than music (especially with the kind of shit people call music nowadays). “Don’t worry about it” She said. “Would any of you like a drink?”
“Yes please” They chorused, each of them desperate for an excuse to stay longer.
“What would you like?”
“Poobeer.” Eddie and Mark replied at once.
“Oooohh that’s my favourite brand! I’ve got loads!” Jess exclaimed, handing them one each. “And what would you like?”
“Erm... I will also partake in some of this beverage also” Bert said, with some hesitation.
“Dude, this is strong stuff.” Mark warned. “You won’t like it”
“Are you pulling my leg? My leg does not appreciate being pulled in this way. I love Pooh Bear”
“Poobeer!” Eddie, Mark and Jess instantaneously corrected him, as Jess supplied him with a bottle. Bert wrinkled his nose. Funnily enough, it smelled like shit.

         Mark surveyed Jess’s house (well actually, he didn’t, he was too busy staring at her chest, and Eddie and Bert were much too interested in looking at the rest of her to notice much else, so we will skip most of the description of her house for now). “Why are you guys going to Berkshire then?” Mark and Bert started to both tell their own versions of their experiences, eager to converse with the epitome of beauty, but Mark then proceeded to pick Bert up, and shove him headfirst into a toilet. Washing his hands, he picked up Bert’s Poobeer that he had not begun drinking yet, and turned back to Jess, and told her what had happened. When he had finished, Jess wore an amused and wondorous expression on her face (much to the dismay of Mark, who rather thought she shouldn’t be wearing anything at all). “So, you’re walking to Berkshire with a guy you barely know, in return for nothing? Not even any money? That’s amazing!” An agitated, muffled spluttering came from the direction of Jess’s toilet as Bert’s legs kicked about furiously. “Well, i really admire you two.”
“I admire you too” Mark replied, staring deep into her eyes. Jess giggled nervously “You are the most beautiful women I have ever seen.” She smiled appreciatively, and thanked him.
“Well” She continued “I am actually making a trip to Berkshire too!”
“Really?” Mark replied “What could possibly make you want to go there?” Jess looked down at the floor.
“Ummm.... it was, just something, can’t really remember what”
“Come on” Mark said “There has to be some sort of reason”
“Err... to see the blimp.” She replied.
“What blimp?”
“You know, THE blimp”
“Oh right, yeah I know, THAT blimp” Mark said, not really knowing at all, but desperate to give the impression they had things in common.
“Right, let’s go then. We can take my car, I’ll drive you there. Should shorten this stupid shitty boo-” Jess was interrupted by Mark bursting out into laughter, infuriating her.
“What!”
“Turns out you got a sense of humour too!”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Hahahahahahahahahahaha! Everybody- everybody knows women don’t drive. Good one!” He said through peals of hysterical laughter. He clutched his stomach, shaking. Jess also shook, but with anger. She turned away from Mark, pulled Bert out of the toilet, linked arms with him and stalked out of the door, both blowing raspberries at Mark over their shoulder. Eddie followed like a dog.
“Whew” Mark sighed. “Women can drive now? I wonder what else they can do? Be mechanics? Not cook? VOTE?” Laughing, he stopped, realising he was getting carried away.

         He went outside and sat in the back seat with Eddie, while Jess and Bert took the front seats. She started the car, and slowly reversed it out of the driveway. Quite suddenly, Eddie began to scream at the top of his voice. Jess stopped the car, and Eddie desisted his screaming. She started it again, and he began screaming again.
“Eddie!” Mark shouted over the screams.
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Eddie carried on screaming, taking no notice.
“Eddie! What’s the matter!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Eddie?” Jess said quietly
“Yes?” He replied, instantly stopping the screaming.
“What’s up?”
“You were driving.”
“What’s your point?”
“But you’re not a man! Women can’t drive!”
“Yes they can, Eddie!”
“Can’t”
“Can”
“I won’t be in same car as woman driving”
“Look, calm down Eddie. I’ll just drive” Mark intervened.
“No!” Jess exclaimed. “To let you drive would be a breach of feminine ideas and principles! Plus, i like sitting in the driver’s seat.”
“Well it seems like there is nothing for it. We will just have to walk.” Bert sighed.
“Don’t be silly! We have a car that we can drive! We cannot possibly walk all the way to Berkshire, it will take days, even weeks!”
“Are you going to let Mark drive?”
“No.” Jess replied.
“Are you going to let Jess drive?”
“No.” Eddie said, folding his arms stubbornly.
“Fine” Jess shrugged. “Looks like we’re walking”

         The foursome got out of the car, Eddie looking very relieved. “I think she’s got the hots for me,” Mark thought. “If she didn’t, she would have driven herself and left us to walk.”
“By the way, Jess?” Mark said “What book was it you were mentioning a few minutes ago?”
“Book? Erm, you must have misheard. Everybody knows that books were subseeded by the internet years ago! There’s no book.”

CHAPTER SIX

         After checking the maps and realising exactly where they needed to go, Eddie, Mark, Bert and Jess began their journey to the county of Berkshire, which was exceedingly boring, only punctuated by stilted conversation, However, once Mark found out about Jess’s interests, they realised they matched almost perfectly- too perfectly, even. They began to dicuss beer, video games, told each other sex jokes and talked about their past (or Mark’s past anyhow, he preferred to talk about himself rather than other people). It was often a case of Mark and Jess walking together locked in conversation, whilst Bert desperately tried his best to walk next to Jess and join in, with little success, only serving to walk into trees and other various obstacles such as very large rubber ducks in his vain attempts to be near Jess. Eddie was happy to always walk next to Mark and listen in, joining in occasionally when invited.

         “So both of your parents died when you were 16? How could you possibly have coped?”
“I pretty much learned to take care of myself i guess. Anything interesting happen to you?”
“Nope, not really, nothing worth mentioning anyway.”
“Come on, there must be something”
“I said there’s nothing worth mentioning! Stop going on at me ok?” Jess said, suddenly quite defensive. Mark raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Yeah Mark, leave her alone” Bert chipped in, grinning with self-satisfaction as he ducked underneath a tree branch, only for him to be caught in a bear trap that just happened to be there.

         “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH WHO THE BLOODY HELL LEFT A BEAR TRAP HERE! WE DON’T EVEN GET BEARS IN ENGLAND!”
“I vote we leave him here.” Mark said, Eddie nodding in agreement.
“Don’t be silly! Can’t you see he’s hurt?” Jess cried, trying desperately to pop open the trap.
“Quiet Pickles, i think we just caught something!” Came a voice from the trees.
“Yay! Periwinkle, our hard work has finally paid off.”
“Pickles!” The voice said, suddenly angry. “What did i tell you about calling me that?”
“Sorry Per- Sir, but it is your name”
“Yes, and i damn well wish it wasn’t. You call me Sir, nothing else! You got that?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good, now i think i’ll decide how to cook this bear. I could have it roasted on a spit, grilled, fri- OH MY GOD!” Periwinkle and Pickles stopped in full sight of everybody, obviously both shocked at seeing Bert struggling in the trap.

         “It’s still alive? Quick Pickles, it may still escape!”
“Yes sir!” Pickles enthusiastically grabbed a nearby stick and helped Periwinkle try and beat Bert to death.
“Ouch! Ow! Stop! This is against the law, I can have you imprisoned you know!”
“Shut up! Bears aren’t supposed to talk.” Periwinkle shouted, grabbing his shotgun and attempting to smash it into Bert’s face. Still struggling to get himself free of the bear trap, he ducked, and the shotgun gave a resounding smack in a nearby tree.
“Are you crazy? This isn’t a bear! He was never a bear, never will be a bear, has no bear-like qualities and does not resemble any species of bear whatsoever! You don’t even get bears here!” Jess was screaming now, absolutely hysterical. With one wrench of almost superhuman strength, she pulled the trap off Bert’s leg. Mark, dropping the stick he was using to join in with Bert’s beating, took Jess’s hand and ran down the path. Eddie violently grabbed Bert, put him on his shoulders and ran after them, two shotgun rounds crashing into the trees behind them.

         “They got away” Periwinkle spoke into his phone.
“I know that you fool! Now listen up.” Came the reply

CHAPTER SEVEN

         Jess, Mark, Eddie and Bert sat together in a dirty hotel room, shaking with pure terror. “Does anybody know who those guys were?” Mark said, trying to make sense of the situation.”
“No” Eddie replied.
“Not me” Bert said, scratching at the bandages on his hurt leg. It was healing up nicely, and the blood had been cleaned off his trousers. Everybody turned to look at Jess.
“What?” She said irritably. “Of course i don’t know them.”
“I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling us”
“There’s nothing, alright! I don’t know anything, except that we need to work out what those guys are after and why.”
“Maybe they’re just poachers?” Eddie said
“No, they shot at us and tried to beat Bert with sticks. They can’t possibly have mistaken us for bears. Good try though, Eddie.” Jess replied.
“Well why would they be trying to get us?” Mark inquired. “Do you know anything about it, Bert? Owe anybody money?
“Do i look like i owe people money? No, i don’t have any idea who’s after us, don’t you think i’ve thought about it?” He asked, indicating his hurt leg.
“No, you’re right, im sorry dude.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Well, we need to work out our next move. We need rest obviously, so we should just stay here tonight.”
“Yes, but we also need supplies, though we should conserve the little cash we have.” Jess said. Mark and Eddie gave each other a knowing look, both feeling Bert’s cash bundles burning a hole in their pockets.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. We have enough.” Jess shrugged and took Mark’s word for it. Eddie yawned. “Im going to bed”. He went to bed.

         Jess looked at the clock. Ten o’ clock, it read. “There’s a supermarket near here” She stated. “Shall we all go together? It should be safer. In case those guys pop up again.”
“No, you guys stay here and get some rest. I can go by myself, i won’t run into them again.” Mark said.
“Oh, thank you Mark! You’re so brave!”
“Wait.” Bert piped up. “Don’t you think im brave Jess?”
“Erm, well....”
“I’ll prove it to you. I can go down to that shop, im not scared at all. Nothing will happen.”
“You sure mate?”
“Yes.” Bert replied, folding his arms stubbornly. “There is a time when a man is required to do something brave. To step up to the plate. When the world needs a person to do something requiring courage, they have no choice but to do it. I will show the world what i can do, and I will do it for you guys! And i also want to thank-”
“Oh for god’s sake. You’re only going to the bloody shop. Get on with it” Mark interrupted Bert’s speech.
“Well okay then, Mark can stay here and keep me company.” Mark gave an almighty grin and Bert’s eyes windened in shock at the chance he had missed. He wanted to protest but he had already said he would go.

         Bert walked through the supermarket, looking for things on the list they had compiled together. Quietly seething with pent up rage at the compromising situation in which he had been placed. He was quite an easygoing man, and he could not think why anybody would kidnap him. Suddenly, he heard glass smashing, and two men in balaclavas ran towards him. He turned and bolted in the other direction, knocking various household goods over to create obstacles for his pursuers. They were shouting. His mind was racing. He had to get away. Vaulting over a box of saucepans, he looked round to see they were gaining on him. He didn’t know what to do. Unable to run forever, he had to resort to something else. Bert grabbed the nearest item, and threw it. As he threw more and more, his pursuers baulked under a hail of Mr Kipling’s French fancies and lemon bakewells. Realising cake would not stop them for long, he looked around and saw the cutlery section. He hurled forks and spoons at the hooded men. Running out of forks, Bert ran past the furniture section, past the sports items section, past the boiled sweets aisle, past the bottles of alcohol stacked on the shelves. Pausing to hurl the cashier at the two men, he stopped at the pets section. He threw turtles, cute little rabbits, kittens, rats, snakes, anything he could find. He didn’t know what else to do! However, the two men were still catching up, the animals only slowed them slightly. One of them stopped to stroke a lemon bakewell and eat a rabbit, but the other angrily pulled him away.

         There was nothing left to throw. Bert was at a dead end. But then he saw it. A small window just above head height, his only escape. He scrabbled at the latch, attempting to pull open the window with his perfectly manicured fingers, then finally as a last resort, he smashed the glass. But he was too late. The bigger of the two guys smashed into him from behind, tackling him and crushing him against the wall. Bert pissed himself in fright.

CHAPTER EIGHT

         “He should be back by now” Jess uttered worriedly.
“He’s probably just choosing caviar or something. Or maybe he got hit by a car, though that’s a little too much to hope for.”
“Don’t be like that Mark! Something serious could have happened to him.”
“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry. Look, we’ll wait an hour longer, then we’ll go and look for him.” He stopped, hearing something fall to the floor and footsteps running away. “What was that?”
“Don’t start accusing me; how am i supposed to know?”
“Calm down Jess! I was just thinking aloud! Why are you always so defensive?”
“I don’t know, im not really used to people trying to kill me, it stresses me out.” Jess admitted.  Mark made a sympathetic noise.
“Please don’t be stressed. I like you a hell of a lot.” He said, putting his arms round her and giving her a tight cuddle. Jess turned to Mark, and their eyes locked. Electricity flowed between the two, and their bodies moved slowly closer and closer. Mark’s hand travelled round the small of Jess’s back, and just as their lips came close to finally converging...

         “What’s this?” Came Eddie’s voice. “Somebody dropped a note through the door.” Mark and Jess leaped away from each other as if the electricity surging between them had not been metaphorical electricity, and had literally electrocuted them both.

         “What’s it say dude?” Mark asked, instantly standing up; his penis doing the opposite.

         “. We hav yor frend. We wil b very nsty to him if you dnt give us lotz and lotz of moneys. Meet us wun mile south of wer you r now.” The note read.
“Well, i guess we got no choice but to go.” Jess stated. Mark and Eddie nodded in agreement.
“They don’t seem like much of a threat. Look how badly this is spelled!”
“Be careful with underestimating them. It could be a trick to make us do just that.” Jess replied anxiously.
“Are we assuming it’s those guys who tried to kill us earlier?”
“I think so. Somebody else trying it would be too much of a coincidence. I can’t think of any reason why those guys would be after us though.”
“Eddie, what do you think about all of this? You’ve been very quiet during all these events.” Eddie sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands, his bottom lip quivering.
“Eddie is very upset. I just want everything to be nice and normal again. I like how things used to be.” Eddie paused for breath. “I want Mark to come and tell me knock knock jokes.” He paused again, tears slowly running down his cheeks. “Why are people trying to kill us? Why did they take my friend Bert? Wh-h-h-h-h-why!” He continued with his blubbering insanity as Mark and Jess exchanged despairing glances. This outburst was quite unexpected.

         Mark, unsure of quite what to do, Eddie had never really showed any form of extreme emotion before, stepped forward slowly and put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He then knocked twice on the floor. Eddie took his hands away from his face, and looked up at Mark through blurry eyes.
“Who’s there?”
“Boo!”
“Boo who?”
“No need to cry, it’s only a joke!” Mark said, sincerely wishing he could come up with better jokes than this.

         But it was enough for Eddie. The tears stopped and he smiled.