Lunch promised to be deeply uninspiring, and in that respect it certainly didn't disappoint: The choice we had consisted of a stringy-meat stew (which looked more like used sump oil), rock hard peas, overcooked carrots (half of which had boiled dry and were burnt to a crisp on one side) and chips. Yes, chips. Only our kitchens could come up with such an Mmm mmm good selection of culinary delights. I had a cheese sandwich.

Tay, still high from the rugby game and the joy of having hair that flowed freely when he moved again, decided to be adventurous and had the stew. A very nearly clean plate was scraped from the top of the pile and a ladle of stew carefully dumped onto it, closely followed by the peas, carrots and half a ton of greasy, super heated chips.

We walked into the dining room and surveyed the hoards, busily shoving "food" into their faces. As we walked down the rows of tables, assorted girls swooned at Tay's presence (funny - never actually seen any of our lot swoon before!), Tay just walking on as if nothing was happening. Ashish madly waved at us from a table in the corner, rather desperate to attract our attention as he had made the bold move of sitting at an empty table. This was usually a good indication of how popular you were - the more people that came to sit with you in the shortest time, the better.

We went over to him and sat down, Tay's leg pressed firmly against my own.

"How'd you enjoy Rugger?" asked Ash, expecting a less-than- enthusiastic response.

"Pretty cool," grinned Tay. "Managed to nail Dean a few times!"

"Not exactly hard, is it?" taunted Ash.

"Like hell! I could have you any time!" I grinned back

"Yeah - any time in your dreams!"

"And why would I be wasting my sleeping time on you, exactly? I got much better things to dream about," I said, rubbing Tay's leg about a third of the way down from his crotch. That shut Ash up, the look on his face indicating that I was quite right. Triv and Jamie joined us a moment later, Jamie slamming his tray down in his usual extravagant "I'm here, no need to get up..." kind of way, and in doing so, sent a shower of water from his glass into his mashed potatoes.

"Shit!"

"Serves you right," grinned Triv.

"What for?"

"Being such a ponse all the time! Look at you - hair all neat and tidy, strutting around the place..." Triv did have a point, but I'd have mentioned the trousers that were just a little too small for him... Man he had a nice arse!

"Shut the fuck up, commando-boy, and eat your food!"

"Just coz you ain't got no muscle worth shit..."

"Have too! I think your mum was injecting steroids into her tits when you were little..."

The banter carried on right the way through the meal (as usual), Jamie and Triv permanently sniping at each other, much to our amusement. Looking around, I could see Jon, Zac and Gareth over with a bunch of other third formers, and was glad to see he'd been accepted as one of the crowd in such a short space of time. I'd been slightly concerned that Zac would've been a bit too OTT for his own good, but the group of lads he was in with were anyway - so that was OK!

Ike, on the other hand, was looking slightly isolated. He was pawing over his plate of mash, sculpting it like the scene in "Close Encounters", then smashing it all down again. I picked up my tray and went over to his table.

"Hey Ike..."

"Oh, hi Dean..."

"You OK?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You just seemed a bit down..."

"Shows, huh?"

"Only a bit!"

"I guess I'm missing Andy. Zac and Tay seem to be enjoying everything sooo much - I guess I haven't had chance to meet anyone yet... 'Cept Jaykesie..."

"Jaykesie?!" Now I knew Mr. Jaykes was young, but surely Ike didn't... Nah - couldn't have...

"Yeah - he's been real friendly and I think... like... he's kinda good looking..."

>>BEEP BEEP<<

"Damn... Listen, Ike - I've gotta go sort Tay out with his camping shit, OK? I'll speak to ya later..."

"Sure, man..."

I HATED my watch with a vengeance. It ruled my life at school, but I reasoned better that than hard labour for being late...

"Tay - we gotta go..."

"Where?"

"You know we're going camping? You need some kit! C'mon!"

"Oh yeah - right..."

I led Tay out of the dining room and down into the caves. As I opened the door at the top of the stairwell, the strangely appealing smell of slightly musty canvas filled my nostrils, indicating that the bothy was indeed open. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a fairly loud metallic 'klang', followed almost immediately by a "SHIT!!! Fuckin' hell!"

We rounded the corner and walked into the dingy room that was the bothy, and saw Mr. Gill standing there madly rubbing his forehead, one of the pipes above him still wobbling slightly.

"Learning French, Sir?" I enquired.

"Shut the fu... hell up, Lidster - I'm not in the mood..."

Tay looked around in awe at all the kit that was hanging from the walls, ceiling, pipes and covering any relatively flat surface - tents, sleeping bags, caving lamps, climbing harnesses, ropes, primus stoves, gas cylinders, flare guns, whistles, maps, compasses, a GPS, boots, a 200ft reel of bootlace, and an empty whisky bottle full of penny pieces.

"Were here to pick up Tay's kit, sir," I stated, trying to make my tone sound more sincere and sensible this time.

"I bloody know that... Just wait there till I can see right... OK - what do you need, Hanson?"

"Uh, the works, I guess," said Tay.

"Right... May as well give you everything now for your tent group, then..." He walked over to a pile of tents in the corner and began throwing them aside, progressively uncovering a rusting filing cabinet. He unhooked an ice-pick from one of the walls and slotted it into the gap between the draws of the cabinet and yanked the lower one open, then chucked the pick vaguely in the direction he got it from knocking a chunk of plaster off the wall.

"OooooK...You need: A two man tent..."

Lob...

"Tent poles"

Chuck...

"Tent pegs"

Lob...

This went on for quite a while until we were covered in everything from waterproof overtrousers to a pair of brillo-pads.

"And the icing on the cake - two one-hundred litre rucksacks..."

"We're going to get all this crap in THESE?" asked Tay, not believing that all our gear would fit.

"No probs... Oh, sir - you may want to give us some paraffin?"

"Damn..." Gillie rummaged around in a box and produced a pair of dented canisters. "There ya go..."

"Ta. OK Tay - time to pack! Oh, sir - who else is in our walking group?"

"Erm... Trivett, Mercer and Hendon..."

"Which group is Ash in?"

"He's not - he's not doing DoE, remember?"

"Oh yeah... Damn..."

"Zcknikkkkk nikkkk nik nik nik!"

"Alien. Definitely alien."

"Aw, man - people always get that one!" said Zac, pretending to sulk.

The school, being multi-cultural, was always quite good for playing "Guess The Language". Zac, knowing only a smattering of Spanish had had to resort to Alien.

"So what classes do we have now then?""Lessons? On a WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON? No way! Half day today!"

"Really? Cool! So what we gonna do?"

"Dunno. You said you got an N64, right?"

"I did... Tay 'borrowed' it."

"Aw man..."

"You wanna go watch the rugby for a while?" asked Jon.

"Whatever," grinned Zac.

"Hey listen guys, I got a music lesson - could you look after Zac for me, Jon?"

Jon looked straight at Zac. "No problem... C'mon - let's get outa this shitty uniform..."

"Woah! These guys are, like, nuts!" exclaimed Zac as one of our props leapt for an opposition player, grabbing onto him and wrestling him to the ground.

"You wanna try it?" Asked Jon, grabbing a stray ball from beside the rickety bench they were sat on.

"Sure, I guess..."

Jon got up and walked round to the back of the cricket pavilion so they wouldn't disturb the First XV game, and chucked the ball at Zac. "Come at me!"

"Huh?"

"Try and get past me!"

Zac took a deep breath and ran, yelling, at Jon. Zac tried to dodge him at the last minute but he was too quick: Jon wrapped his arms round Zac's waste. They both tumbled to the ground, Jon winding up right on top of Zac, staring into his eyes again as he did at morning break.

"Zac, I th...Erm... I..."

Zac knew exactly what he was trying to say. He dropped the ball that he was still clutching tightly and wrapped his arms round Jon's neck, pulling him close. Zac felt the warmth of Jon's breath as their lips met, Zac's tongue darting out and moistening those of his friend. He let his arms slide down Jon's body, exploring every inch of him until his fingertips reached his jeans. After a short pause, he continued, tracing Jon's arse-crack with his fingertips through the tight denim.

He could feel Jon's impressive hardon pressing into his own, igniting that deep passion within him that yearned for maximum physical contact and stimulation. Zac spread his legs enough to let him hook his feet over Jon's, and then slowly pulled both his and Jon's legs as far apart as he could, maximising the pressure on their hot young members. As he did this, Zac allowed his fingers to continue their descent - over Jon's hole to the bulge his balls were making and rubbed them in time to the gentle thrusts they were making against each other. Suddenly, Jon got up.

"Wossamatter?" asked Zac, panting slightly, his tie-dyed T-shirt scrumpled half way up his smooth chest.

"Follow me," he said, taking his hand.

Jon led him over to the equipment shed where the gang mowers and tractors and stuff were kept, and tried the door. It was locked.

"Shit," whispered Zac.

Jon smiled a knowing smile and grabbed a paint can that was tipped over by the side of the building and set it on the ground just to the side of the door. He stood on it and ran his fingers along a ledge just under the roofline, displacing bits of dust and other crap that gathered there. In a moment, there was a metallic 'kling' as a spare key dropped from the ledge onto the concrete surround. He picked it up, put it into the lock and opened the door. Motioning Zac inside, Jon put the paint can back where it'd been and scrubbed the dust off the concrete with his foot, then followed Zac inside and closed the door, locking it after him. Zac looked round the eerily quiet shed, inhaling the air that had that strangely appealing smell of a mix of petrol and freshly cut grass.

"Isn't this going to be a bit uncomfortable? I mean, great for a spider, but..."

Jon smiled again and looked up, Zac following his gaze.

Above them, laid over the support beams, was a pile of mattresses covered in shrink-wrap plastic.

"They use this place to store the spare mattresses that they don't have room for in the houses," explained Jon.

"I had to move half of 'em here for a punishment last term - that's how I know about the key..."

Zac grinned and began to climb the makeshift ladder that had been fabricated out of old strips of metal screwed untidily to a pair of batons on the wall.

Jon followed closely, pressing his face hard into Zac's backside, his tongue pressing as hard as possible up against Zac's balls, causing him to giggle and waggle his bum around. Jon playfully shoved him up the ladder and into the roof space.

"Mind your he.."

WHACK

"head... Low beam..."

"Thankyou, Jon, I'll bare that in mind..."

Tentatively, Zac inched his way along a pair of parallel beams to the plywood "floor" where the mattresses were kept, and lay down on one on his back, legs spread and hair splayed out above him.

"Take me, big boy," he said in a gruff French accent, sending Jon into fits.

"Be careful what you ask for - you may get it!"

"That's what I was hoping."

Zac sat up and gently pulled his T-shirt off, fully exposing his little erect nipples and shivering slightly as his skin came into contact with the fresh spring air. Unperturbed, he undid the laces on his bright red trainers and shoved them off, complete with his socks. Leaning back again, he arched his back and pushed his yellow combats off, the elastic flowing smoothly over the bulge in his BVDs, those too soon following. Jon simply stood there, shaking slightly, as his idol sensually undressed before him. He blinked and surveyed Zac right from the dirty blond hair... The eyes, his cute ever-so- slightly-upturned nose, the tiny scar on his lip, his rapidly broadening shoulders, his smooth boyish chest, slender waist, and the not so boyish five incher dick and full, plump balls beneath them...

"You going to join me or am I just going to freeze to death?" Zac smiled, letting his fingertips play over his aroused genitals.

Jon undid his shirt buttons and let it slip from his shoulders, revealing a much better muscled chest than Zac's yet somehow still boyish. Now it was Zac's turn to watch with anticipation as Jon, one by one, undid the buttons on the flys of his Levis, revealing a monumental tent in his boxer shorts that sent his erection pulsing with anticipation. Jon kicked off his shoes, socks and jeans so he was clad only in a flimsy pair of boxer shorts. As he bent over to ease his left sock off, his erection slipped out of the fly in his boxers, Zac gasping as he viewed the curved seven slender inches of lust. Even Dean and Tay weren't that big! John stood up straight and pulled his boxers down, causing his hardon to be pulled down and then audibly slap up against his stomach as it cleared the elastic.

Zac lay back as Jon approached him, heart pounding in his chest. Jon straddled Zac on his knees as he'd done earlier again. "This is what I really wanted to do to that biscuit," said Jon, and began to gently lick all over Zac's face, the tips of their hard-ons touching each other for an instant from time to time, sending shocks through both boys.

After a few minutes of this, Jon began to kiss and lick his way down Zac's body, pausing only to gently bite and suck on his tender nipples. As he continued his epic journey, Jon's mind was in turmoil: could this really be happening to him? He'd always been afraid that if any of his fantasies were ever realised, he'd be in some way disappointed - the fantasy loosing its appeal because it was never really that good... Jon threw this notion to the wind as one of Zac's roving hands found his hardon and squeezed it tightly, Jon thrusting his hips forward to make as much use of the exquisite friction as he could. He continued to suck and lick over Zac's navel, and was finally head to "head" with his velevty smooth, steely-hard boydick. He inhaled deeply, the feintly musky smell of Zac sending his head reeling. Cautiously, Jon extended his tongue and tasted the hot flesh of his idol. He felt Zac tense under him as he made contact, his dick twitching and spasming with sensory overload. Elated by what was happening and almost high on the shere volume of hormones being pumped through his veins, Jon dived down over Zac's entire length, his cheeks bowing inwards due to the immense suction he was exerting.

To Zac, it felt almost as if his bollocks were being sucked through his dick: Never before had he been sucked with such tremendous power - and he loved every second of it! His limbs writhed and threashed around sending huge clouds of dust up into the still air from the mattress, all of which simply encouraged Jon to go harder and faster at him.

There was not a hope in hell's chance that Zac, the horny little bugger that he was, could even contemplate holding back the truely Titanical orgasm that he knew would hit any second now; so when Jon slid his middle finger into his mouth next to his cock and then began easing it up his backside, Zac just gave up thinking and let his body do the rest.

Jon felt Zac's dick become yet harder still and a second later a volley of cum, so powerful that your average dentist's plaque-blaster would be proud of it, erupted from Zac's piss slit. Although he was expecting a fairly powerful blast (the stains above his bunk were testiment to the fact that he himself had a fairly impressive range) he was not expecting it in such quantity: it felt as if he had a firehose in his mouth! The pearly-white liquid sprayed round his tonsils and splashed up into his nasal cavity, causing him to sneeze and cover Zac's lower abdomen in his own spunk. Jon drank directly from Zac, not wishing to loose a drop of the molten love he had been so graciously provided with.

As Zac's squirts subsided to throbs and then the throbs to twitches, Jon continually nursed and gently nibbled on Zac's gradually softening member. Gently, he withdrew his finger from Zac's arse so as not to leave him feeling suddenly empty, noticing that the digit had been squeezed so hard that it had list most of its colour. Fe felt Zac run his fingers through his short, dark hair, shuddering at the stimulation even that simple act provided him with. He felt the little superstar's fingers close and begin to pull him upwards again until he was face to face with the object of his most extreme desires. Zac looked deeply into his eyes... then burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Next time I think I ought to sit on ya face," grinned Zac.

"Huh? How d'you mean?"

"I think your nose has turned into a dick!" he exclaimed, rubbing a drop of his own cum from the tip of Jon's nose. Briefly he smelt it, then sensuously licked the droplet from his finger.

Just seeing Zac consume his own love potion again sent Jon's dick into overtime. As Jon was appreciably taller than Zac, the face-to- face position they were in dictated that Jon have his hips a few inches below his partner's, so allowing his knob end to nestle snuggly in the valley created by his backside and testicles. When his dick began jumping again, the feeling that the pre-cum lubricated dick slipping around down there made Zac want only one thing.

Without saying a word and continually gazing into Jon's mind through the windows that were his eyes, he raised his legs and gently wrapped them round Jon's lower back. Never once breaking the stare, Jon gently guided the tip of his dick towards the now accessible arsehole, Zac's legs urging him on. Jon felt himslef come into contacy with the slight depression of Zac's hole and took a deep breath. Holding it, he pushed gently but firmly forward whilst Zac pushed out to give Jon an easier time of entering him, resisting the urge to flex his sphincter. That'd be a treat for later.

With a slight jump, Jon felt the head of his dick fully surrounded by the hot, velvety interior of Zac's arse - and MAN did that feel good! After pausing for a moment , he continued to gently thrust into the boy beneath him, feeling the slight ripples of Zac's arse playing over his dickhead, almost sucking him in now. Zac was in a similar state of euphoria: Although Jon was slimmer than Gareth, his dick sure was longer, and was beginning to probe areas that he had never been aware of existing before. The steady inward push of Jon seemed to go on forever - as did the incredible feeling of being so deeply penetrated. All too soon, though, he felt Jon's generous balls press up against his smooth backside, and unless he wanted to try and get his balls in too (which Zac secretly hoped he'd try) he'd have to stop there. As Jon did stop, Zac squeezed down hard with every muscle he could find to squeeze, pulling every part of Jon that was in contact with him harder and closer together. Jon moaned a long, deep, almost gutteral moan as he became one with Zac, their eyes still locked together - now almost afraid to break contact. Encouraged by Zac, Jon gently withdrew about an inch, reveling in the unsurpassible pleasure Zac's immensely tight arse muscles were giving him. Again, he paused for a moment, then pushed back in again - not hard or fast, but certainly not as slowly as his initial penetration. Feeling Zac do nothing but help pull him in with his legs, Jon started to reciprocate his motions, gently pulling out then pushing back in. Gradually, his pace increased until he was in a steady rhythm, yet he still gazed at Zac, completely lost with emotions that surpassed everything he had ever experienced up until that point. Jon's dick pistoning in and out of his backside made Zac realise how much he wanted this, his own dick extending to its full length, stimulated by the intense rubbing of it between Jon's stomach and his own. As Jon would pull out, Zac clenched down as hard as he could with his arse and would then help him thrust back in again by hugging him tightly with his legs.

After a few minutes, Zac felt Jon's thrusts becoming sharper and more urgent, and knew his new friend would soon be lubricating his arse from the inside out. Moving his hands up Jon's back, Zac pulled their lips together and forced his tongue into the other boy's mouth. That was all it took. With three final, hard thrusts, Jon screamed down Zac's throat as his dick swelled to gargantuan proportions and began to hose down his large intestine. The feeling of the warm cum being injected deep into him triggered his own orgasm so quickly it literally startled him, provoking a short yelp. His own dick now jerked and twitched, coating the cavity between them with a moderate portion of his boy glue, his spasming arsehole milking the last few drops of cum from Jon.

As their respective orgasms faded and reality began to seep its way back into their reality-proofed minds, Jon smiled at Zac for the first time during the whole thing, then lowered himself down ontop of him.

"Thankyou," he whispered into Zac's ear.

"What for?" he teased.

"You freakin' know what for!" giggled Jon and rolled over, pulling Zac on top of him. "That looks just like that scene from 'Alien'" he said pointing at the strings of cum still joining them, the giggle now escelating into a laugh.

Zac scooped up as much of his cum as he could and smeared it over his hand. "Oh my GOD! IT'S A FACE HUGGER!" he yelled, his left hand desperately trying to hold back the tretcherous advances of the mutated right. Without warning, the mutant changed targets and dived directly for Jon's face, hitting it's target with quite astonishing accuracy. It squirmed around all over his face, leaving a sticky trail of "mucus", the middle finger probing for any available orifice. Jon grabbed it and prised the creature off his face, licking as much of the slime off it as he could...

"Hoh-kay, you think it's gonna be wet or dry weather?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon - wet or dry?"

Tay looked up at the fluffy clouds that were lazily drifting over the Derbyshire / Staffordshire border as we stood on the school's front lawn, camping gear strewn around us. "Dry. why d'you wa..."

"Inner or flysheet?"

"What??"

"Inner or flysheet?!" I asked again, this time indicating the inside and outside bits of the old, faded orange Vango Force 9 tent that was going to be our home for the next two nights.

"Ohhh! You mean what do I want to carry?"

"Yep. Before you choose, remember my first question!"

"What's the weather godda do withwhat part of the tent I carry? Is it bad luck or something?"

"Heh - no, but it can make quite a weight difference... Look: The inner's got this dirty great tarpaulin thing attached to the bottom so it's quite heavy. To make the load even, the other guy carries the flysheet and poles. Problem is if it rains the guy carrying the flysheet ends up with twice the weight!"

"Ah, I gotcha. I'm sure it's gonna be dry."

"So you want the flysheet and poles?"

"Uh huh."

"OK, I get the inner..." I dragged the canvas / plastic monstrosity over to 'my' side of the lawn. "We'd better get this frame up to see if it fits."

"Why?"

"Gillie's favourite trick is giving you the poles for a three man tent and the flysheet and inner for a two man. It's IMPOSSIBLE to get a dry tent when that happens!"

"Shit! I'd never have checked that."

"Believe me, you learn from experience!" I said, remembering a particularly blustery camp in Dovedale the previous year.

We pushed the ancient aluminium tubes together to make a rather rickety tent frame, then draped the flysheet over the top to ensure a decent fit which was, for once, obtained - the canvas bracing the frame and making a viable tent.

"Weyhey! A fit! That's got to be a first!"

We continued to split up the gear according to weight and bulk, the smaller things usually weighing the most.

"I'll take the pans," offered Tay.

"Billies!"

"Who?"

"They're called 'Billies'. Pans are for when you're cooking on your nice ceramic instant-on halogen hob. Billies are for when you need something to heat stuff in!"

"I see... And there's a difference?"

"Of course there bloody is!"

"What?"

"After you've slaved over a primus for a couple of hours desperately trying to keep your chilli AND rice warm, it'll taste a whole lot better than if you cooked it in a kitchen, even if you hate chilli!"

After some of the required packing tricks had been explained (like not putting your matches in the Primus Stove's box - the paraffin and / or meths WILL leak out and drench them, and putting your heaviest kit at the top so that you're not continually being pulled backwards) we managed to comfortably fit the entire shebang into our ruksacks.

"So what's the whistle for? We intending to ref a soccer game?"

"No - to attract attention if you fall or hurt yourself or something."

"I do that anyway! Couldn't I just, like, moon at someone? I'm sure they'd notice!"

"I think you're right!"

We lay down side by side on the slightly damp grass, looking up at the clouds, the sharp spring air playing over our faces. I turned and looked at Tay lieing there, eyes closed. I reached over and ran my fingers through his hair.

"How come you look so damn handsome, Hanson?" I asked, smiling at the rhyme I'd said without realising it.

"Dunno. I guess I get my looks from my mom... My dad isn't really photogenic... A guy who interviewed us once said he looked like 'Walker for the Defense' - and he wasn't far out!"

"Do you get lonely at home? Shit - this is starting to sound like "sixty minutes"!"

"I guess so... I don't know what I'd do if I didn't get on with Ike and Zac so well. The homeschool thing can get kinda lonely - I got friends, but I get so jealous when I hear them on about 'what we did to the teacher in class today' or 'who we saw makin' out in the corridor'. Thanks, Dean..."

"For what?"

"Getting me in here for a bit. It sounds really weird coming from a kid but I think school's kinda cool!"

Then it hit me as to what he'd said.

"Homeschool? But... I mean... Who the hell was the headmaster talking to when he arranged the exchange?"

"Our school."

"But you just said..." Now it was my turn to get confused.

"We're kinda attached to a school - we don't actyally go there, but my folks get all the texts and shit from them."

"So what am I going to be doing when I'm over there with you?"

"Go to Hanson High of course!"

"So I'll get taught by your mum and dad?"

"Yeah - they're pretty good, you know."

This was just getting better all the time! Not only did I get to spend a fortnight in Tulsa, I got to spend most of it WITH TAY IN HIS OWN HOME! Wow!

"Cool!"

"Zac - remember the..."

WHACK

"...beam! 'Thankyou, Jon, I'll bare that in mind'!"

"SHIT!"

Zac lowered himself onto the ladder and began climbing down after Jon, head now reeling for a slightly more physical reason! Jon pulled the key out of his picket and twisted it in the lock, the rusty bolt drawing back with a heavy clunk that shattered the relative quiet in the shed.

They walked out into the fresh air, squinting as the orange afternoon sun shone brightly in their eyes. Jon locked the shed door again and replaced the key in its rightful positionon on the lip beneath the roof, then lead Zac back up footly lane after the Rugby players, the game having just finished. They didn't notice Gareth leaning against one of the far rugby posts...

"Mr. Curuthers!"

No reply.

"SIR!"

Still no reply. Why did I spend most of my time yelling up at this guy's window?? This was not good - here we were: five lads laden with rucksacks locked out of our own boarding house. (Well, four - Tony Hendon was just here to keep all the kit together). Like hell was I gonna walk back up to school with all this shit, and I didn't particularly want to leave it under the porch for any opportunist Rocky (the nickname for the local inhabitants) to come and nick.

"WAKE UP YOU IDLE BASTARD!" Yelled Jamie, never one to mince words. After a while, Curruthers' window scraped open and he shoved his head out.

"WHAT?"

"Would you like to let us in, sir?" asked Triv.

"No."

"Will you please let us in?" I asked, rewording the request into a Curruthers-compatible version.

"Yes," he said, disappearing back inside. A moment later, a hand re- appeared and dropped a bunch of keys out of the window. We all watched in abject horror as they splash-landed into an old beer keg that Curruthers used as a water butt. However, seeing as there was no real water inlet to it, the water it contained was stagnant to say the least.

"Cheers, sir! Remind me to forget your Christmas card this year!" yelled Jamie after the window slammed shut.

"So, who's getting the keys?" Triv asked.

"I can tell you who isn't," grinned Tay.

We all looked at Spider. "Oooooh nooooo - not me! This ain't even my house! One of you lot should get 'em!"

(Tony "the Spider" Hendon got his name from his rock climbing antics - he could somehow clamber up or over almost any rock face, seemingly without foot or hand holds. The actual nick name came after seeing a dodgy "Frosties" advert with Tony the Tiger clambering up a mountain, and it kinda stuck!)

"Sod this for a game of cricket," I announced and dumped my rucksack on the ground, then removed my jumper and rolled up my shirt sleeve.

"You're not seriously going to put your HAND in there, are you?" asked Triv.

I walked over to the barrel and climbed onto the two-foot-high concrete block it was stood on and looked in. I nearly threw up.

After finding a dead cat removal impliment (a branch) to remove said dead cat, I took a deep breath and sunk my arm into the slimey gunge. After a moment, my fingers brushed across the oversize keyring. I made the mistake of breathing out with relief, meaning I had to breathe in again. I grabbed the ring and pulled it out, gasping for air. I jumped off the support and chucked the keys at triv, then went to the wall tap to wash my arm off...


On to Chapter Eleven

Back to Chapter Nine

Chapter Index

Dean Lidster Home Page

Email the Author - dean@meta4.org