Chapter 4. Drunken Men

William wasn't unaccustomed to sheds. He had seen them before in a few of his friend's gardens, and wasn't too shocked to see the inside of this one. Tools hanging from hooks, plant pots on a shelf, some drawers with gardening paraphernalia in. A typical shed. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a bottle of 30 year old vintage rhubarb wine on a table. Next to it was a glass and even a corkscrew. This being, by rights, on William's property, the shed was his and the items therein belonged to him also. He sat on a little wooden chair and examined the bottle more closely.

An hour or two might have gone by before he tried to stand up and leave his new shed. He managed to wander outside the door but he soon found himself in all sorts of bother. A trembling began within him, his knees knocked and his breath quickened. It was dark and he was scared. He also felt naked.* Then he felt embarrassed.

Realising he was lost, he raised his hands above his head and made obscene gestures whilst shouting obscenities directed at the night sky. The sky failed to respond, but it was dark. And so, with co-ordination similar to a newborn deer, he went careering down a steep embankment, bouncing off trees and bumping into rocks as he went. At the bottom, his momentum left him as he eventually stopped at the wheels of a horse drawn carriage. Had William been more silent in his approach, its occupants may not have heard him.

"I think i just heard something," said one of the passengers.

"Just a bump in the road," said another, "the suspension on this thing's crap."

"No, wait. Shhh. I heard it too!" said a woman.

"What did you hear?" the others asked.

"I heard someone smash into the side of the carriage, get up, and run away." she replied. 

*He was.

  

William, bruised and drunk, decided after a minute to stumble along the track, and follow the route of the carriage. It was going somewhere, and wherever somewhere was was better than where he was. A light shone between some trees not too far away in the distance, and over the brow of the hill, he saw a town. Then he heard a noise. Then he was kicked in the back of his legs and forced to lie in a wet ditch at the side of the track. Next to him was an old man with a thick wiry beard who smelt of stale booze and talked complete and utter nonsense.

"You have air of the that familiarynesses about you yes yes, haven't yous not my shakinging naked man friend? No?" the drunken bearded stranger sort of asked.

William, embarrassed and startled, quickly reached for a leafy branch and pulled it in front of his particulars.

"What are you talking about you stinky old man!" he replied.

"I meaninging your face," continued the man, looking him in the eyes. "I knows it yets I haves not seens of it before. Remindeded me of someone who I don't know. Interestinging. Yes. Fancys a tipple of the magicic brew? No?"

William didn't answer. He thought himself a good judge of character of people he had only just met, and this inebriated hobo offended him immediately.

"Comprendez mines parlez vouses? Speakings of the Englisheses?" resumed the man.

"Lets get things straight, Beardy. The name's William. And do I speak English? Yes. Do you? I'm not sure. Hopefully you can answer this simple question for me though..."

"A question? Answered? Simple? Straight beard. Hope? Not sure. William? English."

"BE QUIET YOU STINKY OLD TRAMP!" interrupted the now irate William. "You're not making any sense at all, and you are starting to really irritate me. Give me that bottle you keep drinking out of! It's turned you into a raving fruitloop!" 
He snatched the bottle out of the crazy man's hand, but given the desperate situation, and feeling a touch parched himself, he couldn't resist just having a little taste himself. He had a big big gulp.

"Not bad booze," he observed, "I like the way it keeps on refilling itself as if by magic."

He had another gulp and then another...

The previous events of the evening seeped out of his memory like farts from a fish as he relaxed into an intoxicated blur. He was aware of his trembling and naked body however, and that he needed some clothes. As the man was carrying several plastic carrier bags full of them, he thought he would try and communicate with him once more.

"Clothes in bagses." he uttered.

"Hmm?" replied the man.

"Clothes bagses. Plastics carrying clothes for mine?" continued William who actually thought he was making sense.

"Now you're talking!" proclaimed the man. "Come back to mine and we'll continue this discussion indoors. In the meantime, help yourself to some clothes. I have plenty."*

*for the benefit of the reader, this sentence and all those that follow between William and the old man have been translated from the nonsensical jabberings of pissed madmen into plain English.

The old man lived in a hollow in the ground. It had a ceiling made of giant leaves which had been collected from the surrounding forest. He sat William down on a tree stump, found a couple of cups and poured them both a drink. The bottle became empty and then refilled itself, as had happened earlier.

"Excellent stuff!" declared William. "Never ending booze!"

"Never ending blues more like," explained the man. "You see, now that we have both had a drink of this magical brew we can talk to each other like two normal men. But when we first met, and you hadn't touched any of it, neither of us could understand one another."

"You mean to say that both of us are actually talking gibberish right at this very moment?" asked William.

"Absolutely. For example, if either of us were to walk outside now and come across someone else, then that unfortunate person wouldn't have a clue what we were blabbering on about. Likewise, we would consider them to have the vocabulary skills of a two month old baboon with a stutter. Believe me, I have tried to mingle with the outside world, but its just impossible to be taken seriously. Take the time when I tried to buy a pack of razors and some soap one day. I was chased away from that shop like a terrorist with the plague."

"So why don't you just throw this bottle away?" asked William. "Why can't you get back to a normal life?"

"Alas, I cannot." replied the man forlornly. "Let me explain. Thirty years ago, I was happily married to a beautiful princess and we were set to rule the world together as King and Queen but, as if by magic, it all went terribly wrong. She disappeared off to a mysterious realm and has not been seen since. And I..." he paused, looking ashamedly at the bottle, "...well I have been a slave to this cursed yet addictive drink ever since. If I try and pour it away, it keeps on refilling. And if I try and stop drinking it, my liver ceases to function and I die. Ironic, I know, but it demonstrates the sick and twisted humour of the man we are dealing with." He gave William a piercing stare and continued, "The man who turned me into this raging loon! The man that took my beautiful wife away from me! The man that has ruined our world forever!"

"And whom might that be?"

"He is none other than the evil King who reigns to this very day."