The Beer Hunter, part 2 and three quarters
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'I see the after effects are coming through... you shall not be so
casual after the next one, however, we arnt completely evil, we wish
for our own... benefit that you survive, i believe an hour or two in
the cells will allow you to stew until the next task' He grinned.
Knuckles and Rocky 'escorted' The two contnetly full crewman to a
small stone room with a firm door, they were thrown in violently.
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Keats landed on the stone floor and made a sounds likea mallet
hitting prime steak. Phil was thrown in after, and his knee narrowly
voided Keats left testicle. Keats groaned as phil picked himself up
and dusted off his clothing.
'Keats, i cant help but think that this is somehow ALL YOUR FAULT!'
Keats rolled over and groaned
'iss.. is'not all bad.. sir, at least they gave us some good grub,
and the promise of more.. ahh... torture...'
Phil contemplated this, if the tortures that lay in store were as
delishous and well cooked as the last one, he wouldnt mind staying
here a while
'Got summin that might pass the time...' Keats stretched behind him
and pulled out the 'Quicky' hipflask and half heartidly threw it
towards Phil, who skillfully caught, unscrewed and swigged in one
smoth motion. Phil winced slightly as he drrnk some, screwed it back
up and dropped it on Keats.
'What we need, John, is a plan...'
's'right sir, got any plans?'
'Not as such, no..'
The smell of cooking flowed through the cell blocks, possibly to
drive them insane with the next 'horrendous' meal.
Keats and Phil Lay and stood there a second (respectively).
'What does it smell like to you, Phil?'
Phil took a deep lung full of the smell.
'Dunno, smells like.. well, it smells good, like the smells that come
from that Turkish grill on the Blue Dwarf, only without the rat meat,
droppings and what i can only hope is real Pig'
Keats mused this.
'Pig? dont you mean Pork?'
'I KNOW what i said, Keats'
'Hope your comfortable in dar!' It was one of the Aeron Bullies.
'Grubs up in.. in... in..' The Thug turned to the more intelectual
thug.
'Pssst, wassis thing mean?'
'Urrr, thats.. when the big hand points there, and the little one
there, and the moving one.. errr. 10 minutes...'
'Grubs up in 10 minutes'
Keats piped up.
'What torture confronts us this time?'
'Kebabs, hurhur'
dimwitted laughter was carried away by there movment away until the
thugs realised they werer laughing between themselves and stopped.
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OOC- Sorry phil, i left it open for you but i got twitchy and wanted
to post.