Cube shows his hand

So there I was, a full moon in the night sky alighting an eerily quiet castle with not a soul in sight apart from yours truly, the man not called Joe, and a man not called Scott with a cube looking camera.

We were sat around an ancient looking table that looked as though they had literally lifted it out of The Witchery and carried it up the road. On the table was a bottle of Old Fox whisky, tall burning candles protected from the stiff breeze within their glass containers and four, yes four, glasses. Humph, we were clearly expecting another guest.

To an innocent bystander we would have looked like a party of a privileged three within these ancient grounds set aside solely for us. I was in fact tied to the table but at least one hand was free to drink the rather delicious Scottish water.

'Well this is nice,' I said, 'a real delight eh. And this whisky, well, what a joy!'

Silence met me together with Paddington hard stares.

'Do you come here often!' I asked with a cheeky grin written across my face as I held the new mans gaze and juggled with it.

The man not called Scott cleared his throat theatrically and said in an American drawl,

'It's a great place for an ending,'

'Isn't it!' I said as my stomach did somersaults that would have seen me win the event at the schools sports day.

'You've been trouble Mr Bunny, and we don't much care for trouble causes where I come from,' he added with a slight grin clawing at the edges of his lips.

The man not called Joe nodded towards the side gate and time stood still as the handle creaked and the door slowly opened. Hinges never sounded so loud as out stepped a cool darkly dressed character wearing Ray-Bans to presumably protect his eyes from the moon (......). He walked with an easy gait over to the table and took a seat.

'Good evening Anthony.'

'Good evening Jack,' I said, immediately recognising this blip legend and wondering what the hell he was doing sat at this table with this company.

'What the hell are you doing sat at this table with this company?' I asked, asking the first thing that had come into my head. It was just as well as the second thing that had come into my head was me regretting wearing my third pair of pink pants. What a poor way to die, wearing my third pink pair of pants. They were at least five years old and had a few minor holes together with slight bagginess, but I had been unable to part with them as they had a print of Ms Hepburn on them.....

'Money talks,' said Jack, smiling at his new pals as my humour left me.

'Oh,' was all I could muster as my head dropped in sadness and all hope disappeared. If they'd turned Jack, they could turn anybody.

It was then that I heard a blood curdling howl that sent shivers down my shivers and caused my drinking partners to stand. They had been expecting this.

'We'll leave him to you and the beast then' said the man not called Joe as he and his American pal exited quickly through the same entrance as Jack has arrived.

I looked up at Jack to be met my an almighty smile. He turned to an opposite side gate and walking through was a hooded character with a huge super woofer playing the said hound howl. There was no beast after all!

'Scotty!' said Sleepyhead as he undid my knots, 'we've got you!'

I was saved.

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