Chapter II (which here means eleven, not two)
I managed to stop shaking altogether after a mere three minutes (no wimpy shaking's gonna stop me!) and cast my mind back to what Ned sed, before reeling it back in with a good sized question-fish attached on it to ask him.
"Uh, Ned, if Ciola is at the quarry, why are you taking me to the fort?"
Ned paused (I could tell he paused by the way the sucking sound near my shoulder stopped) and thought for a moment. I heard him muttering something about a "stupid blog-novelist mixing up his words" and how he "always had to think of ways out of these plot-holes" before replying: "Yeah, there is a fort at the old quarry, or perhaps a quarry at the old fort. One of the two."
Satisfied with this answer, we trekked onwards (well, I trekked onwards, Ned just kind of sat on my shoulder drinking something reminscent of 1 & 1/2 oz Vodka, 3 oz tomato juice, 1 dash lemon juice, 1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, 2 - 3 drops Tabasco® sauce, shaken with ice and strained into an old-fashioned glass over ice cubes, salt and pepper added to taste and a lime wedge - but with decidely less Mary and far more Erstwhile).
Eventually we arrived at the rusty wrought-ironed gates of the old quarry fort.
A sign hung on the gates with "For Sale" written on it in bold letters.
"Oh, poor person," I sighed.
"Whats that?" Ned asked curiously.
"Whoever he is trying to sell that sign, he's chosen a bad spot. No-one will see it here unless they come to look at the fort. Its all about positioning. I remember when I tried to sell a sign I'd made. I stuck it on my car dashboard so that people could admire it as I was driving around town... I didn't get a lot of offers on it though, people seemed to want to buy my car instead..."
"Moron," Ned muttered under his breath. I guess he was annoyed at himself for not realising the sign was for sale, or perhaps he could see my point and thought the sign-owner should shift the sign to his truck bonnet.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," I reassured him, as I slipped through a gap in the gates and we headed towards the fort.
Little did we know what was about to befall us!
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"Uh, Ned, if Ciola is at the quarry, why are you taking me to the fort?"
Ned paused (I could tell he paused by the way the sucking sound near my shoulder stopped) and thought for a moment. I heard him muttering something about a "stupid blog-novelist mixing up his words" and how he "always had to think of ways out of these plot-holes" before replying: "Yeah, there is a fort at the old quarry, or perhaps a quarry at the old fort. One of the two."
Satisfied with this answer, we trekked onwards (well, I trekked onwards, Ned just kind of sat on my shoulder drinking something reminscent of 1 & 1/2 oz Vodka, 3 oz tomato juice, 1 dash lemon juice, 1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, 2 - 3 drops Tabasco® sauce, shaken with ice and strained into an old-fashioned glass over ice cubes, salt and pepper added to taste and a lime wedge - but with decidely less Mary and far more Erstwhile).
Eventually we arrived at the rusty wrought-ironed gates of the old quarry fort.
A sign hung on the gates with "For Sale" written on it in bold letters.
"Oh, poor person," I sighed.
"Whats that?" Ned asked curiously.
"Whoever he is trying to sell that sign, he's chosen a bad spot. No-one will see it here unless they come to look at the fort. Its all about positioning. I remember when I tried to sell a sign I'd made. I stuck it on my car dashboard so that people could admire it as I was driving around town... I didn't get a lot of offers on it though, people seemed to want to buy my car instead..."
"Moron," Ned muttered under his breath. I guess he was annoyed at himself for not realising the sign was for sale, or perhaps he could see my point and thought the sign-owner should shift the sign to his truck bonnet.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," I reassured him, as I slipped through a gap in the gates and we headed towards the fort.
Little did we know what was about to befall us!
Previous Chapter ***** Next Chapter
posted by Lark Victory | 8:53 PM
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