The Poachers Tale.
It was an unseasonally warm February evening when Billy Bass scuttled into his local pub the -Bag 'O' Ferrets- with his Jack Russell terrier Ratty at his heel, he was shaking uncontrollably and his face was ashen.
'You look as if you've seen a ghost', Ted the pub landlord said.
'Give us a whisky Ted quick, I've seen something...You know those horror films where dead people come out of the ground?'
'What a zombie; or something like that?'
'Something like that, I thought it was a scarecrow, Ratty snarled at it and started ragging its trouser bottoms and it kicked out at him....' he paused for breath. 'Ratty squealed and ran off with his tail between his legs and this thing in pursuit; Flash ran off for home; she'll be waiting in the porch when we get there...' he held onto the bar with shaking hands and gulped for another breath before carrying on with his story, 'I didn't hang around, my hearts thumping; I've never been scared in the dark before, but the lights from your windows were never so welcoming; I have never ran so fast I kept up with Ratty... and I never managed that before.'
Ratty sat at his feet, panting, licking his rump and looking very sorry for himself.'
'You didn't call in the Queens Arms before you came here did you Billy? Maybe it was a tramp.'
'No, I wouldn't go in that place if it was the only pub in the county; full of pretentious townie incomers who watch Bright Eyes and think that it is a true story. Anyway, what's a tramp doing stood in the middle of one of Sir Lee-Bustard's fields with his arms stuck out like wings, and straw sticking out his coat collar? I've seen that scarecrow hundreds of times and all the dogs ever did was piss up its legs... it never moved an inch before.'
Old Walter sat in his usual chair in the bar between the window and the fireplace, he decided to have some fun.
'Oh aye,' he said with folded arms and a wise air about him, 'I have heard rumours about Young Surly Bastard; he gets up to all sorts with his posh friends-'
Melvin, the sycophantic hat doffing estate worker cut in; Walter knew he was drinking in the Lounge bar next door to the Public Bar,
'Just you show some respect Mister, It's Sir Lee-Bustard to you,' he said through the Lounge Bar hatch.
-'Surly Bastard to me Melvin; you drink up your limeade whilst I'm talking to the men,' Walter said, he winked at Ted and carried on with his story, 'Everything comes easy to them see, so they don't have anything to do, they get bored; I heard a rumour that they dabble in the dark arts; they say young Surly is Chief Bollock-'
'Don't you mean Warlock?' Ted asked.
'-Yeah, that's it. Maybe they've gone too far and woken the dead?'
'It's people like you starting disparaging rumours like that, that gets the aristocracy a bad name!' Melvin said, banged his empty glass down on the bar and added, 'I'm off to the Queens Arms. You don't go in there because it isn't frequented by poaching thieves like yourselves!'
As he left through the lounge door the head gamekeeper met him,
'Is that Bass character in there?' he asked.
'Yes Bert; and that old reprobate Walter, you should hear him maligning his Lordship. It's about time you caught them poaching.'
'We will Melvin; I've got it sorted, I don't think Bass will be too keen to venture on his Lordships land in future,' the Gamekeeper said, and slid silently into the Lounge Bar and alongside the hatch, where he could covertly listen to the conversation in the public bar without anyone seeing him.
Ted looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the big gamekeeper trying to hide his massive frame at the side of the hatch, Burt put his finger to his lips. However, because Walter and Billy were good customers and spent more money in his bar than the Gamekeeper- a devout Baptist and abstainer from the demon drink-.
'Oh hello Bert, what brings you in here?' Ted asked.
'Er, just a social call Landlord, as you are a member of the Parish Council, us representatives of his Lordship like to keep in touch with you... I met Melvin on his way out was he partaking of some refreshment?'
'Oh just his usual limeade, would you like one?'
'Yes please landlord.'
'Worked up a thirst chasing poachers Gamekeeper?' Walter asked.
'Hello Walter, Ah Mister Bass, hows the Jack Russell?' he peared over the bar, 'looks a bit sorry for himself.'
Ratty growled at the Gamekeeper.
'Nothing wrong with him,' Billy said, and wondered what the Gamekeeper knew about the incident in the field.
'He had a run in with one of your Masters friends,' Walter said.
'Oh? And who was that then?'
'Ah, well, I don't think it is in my place to say; Melvin has already told me off for talking about his highness.'
'I doubt if that will bother you Walter. What's wrong with you Mister Bass? You don't look well to me.'
Before Billy could answer, Ted said, 'I told him to go steady with the whisky, he's been in here since dinner time, looks like its making him ill.'
'Oh, really? He must have an identical twin brother; I could swear I saw him scurrying down Warren Lane about half an hour ago... Well, I would say he was doing about 40 miles an hour towards this pub.'
'Christ! Not another Billy Bass in Bogham, and one who can move quick,' Walter said.
'I've got my eye on both of you reprobates, I know you poach his Lordships land and sell your ill-gotten gains to Ted here for his Sunday Roasts; he even has the cheek to advertise his meals as freshly caught local game.'
'That's it, your barred!' Ted yelled, 'Don't you come in here accusing me without evidence.'
' Yeah, we don't want any Whore-lock Curses in here; you'll frighten all Ted’s customers away.'
The gamekeeper pointed his finger at Walter, a confused expression crossed his face, “what the hell is he talking about?” he thought, then he decided to address his words to Ted,
'I'll get the evidence; mark my words... This must be the only village with more than one Village Idiot in it.'
'Yeah and your the biggest one!' Billy yelled after the Gamekeeper as the latter left the pub shaking his head in disbelief.
'You know what I think Billy? Ted said as soon as he closed the door and walked across the car park outside.
'What?'
'I think I know who that Zombie was.'
'You look as if you've seen a ghost', Ted the pub landlord said.
'Give us a whisky Ted quick, I've seen something...You know those horror films where dead people come out of the ground?'
'What a zombie; or something like that?'
'Something like that, I thought it was a scarecrow, Ratty snarled at it and started ragging its trouser bottoms and it kicked out at him....' he paused for breath. 'Ratty squealed and ran off with his tail between his legs and this thing in pursuit; Flash ran off for home; she'll be waiting in the porch when we get there...' he held onto the bar with shaking hands and gulped for another breath before carrying on with his story, 'I didn't hang around, my hearts thumping; I've never been scared in the dark before, but the lights from your windows were never so welcoming; I have never ran so fast I kept up with Ratty... and I never managed that before.'
Ratty sat at his feet, panting, licking his rump and looking very sorry for himself.'
'You didn't call in the Queens Arms before you came here did you Billy? Maybe it was a tramp.'
'No, I wouldn't go in that place if it was the only pub in the county; full of pretentious townie incomers who watch Bright Eyes and think that it is a true story. Anyway, what's a tramp doing stood in the middle of one of Sir Lee-Bustard's fields with his arms stuck out like wings, and straw sticking out his coat collar? I've seen that scarecrow hundreds of times and all the dogs ever did was piss up its legs... it never moved an inch before.'
Old Walter sat in his usual chair in the bar between the window and the fireplace, he decided to have some fun.
'Oh aye,' he said with folded arms and a wise air about him, 'I have heard rumours about Young Surly Bastard; he gets up to all sorts with his posh friends-'
Melvin, the sycophantic hat doffing estate worker cut in; Walter knew he was drinking in the Lounge bar next door to the Public Bar,
'Just you show some respect Mister, It's Sir Lee-Bustard to you,' he said through the Lounge Bar hatch.
-'Surly Bastard to me Melvin; you drink up your limeade whilst I'm talking to the men,' Walter said, he winked at Ted and carried on with his story, 'Everything comes easy to them see, so they don't have anything to do, they get bored; I heard a rumour that they dabble in the dark arts; they say young Surly is Chief Bollock-'
'Don't you mean Warlock?' Ted asked.
'-Yeah, that's it. Maybe they've gone too far and woken the dead?'
'It's people like you starting disparaging rumours like that, that gets the aristocracy a bad name!' Melvin said, banged his empty glass down on the bar and added, 'I'm off to the Queens Arms. You don't go in there because it isn't frequented by poaching thieves like yourselves!'
As he left through the lounge door the head gamekeeper met him,
'Is that Bass character in there?' he asked.
'Yes Bert; and that old reprobate Walter, you should hear him maligning his Lordship. It's about time you caught them poaching.'
'We will Melvin; I've got it sorted, I don't think Bass will be too keen to venture on his Lordships land in future,' the Gamekeeper said, and slid silently into the Lounge Bar and alongside the hatch, where he could covertly listen to the conversation in the public bar without anyone seeing him.
Ted looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the big gamekeeper trying to hide his massive frame at the side of the hatch, Burt put his finger to his lips. However, because Walter and Billy were good customers and spent more money in his bar than the Gamekeeper- a devout Baptist and abstainer from the demon drink-.
'Oh hello Bert, what brings you in here?' Ted asked.
'Er, just a social call Landlord, as you are a member of the Parish Council, us representatives of his Lordship like to keep in touch with you... I met Melvin on his way out was he partaking of some refreshment?'
'Oh just his usual limeade, would you like one?'
'Yes please landlord.'
'Worked up a thirst chasing poachers Gamekeeper?' Walter asked.
'Hello Walter, Ah Mister Bass, hows the Jack Russell?' he peared over the bar, 'looks a bit sorry for himself.'
Ratty growled at the Gamekeeper.
'Nothing wrong with him,' Billy said, and wondered what the Gamekeeper knew about the incident in the field.
'He had a run in with one of your Masters friends,' Walter said.
'Oh? And who was that then?'
'Ah, well, I don't think it is in my place to say; Melvin has already told me off for talking about his highness.'
'I doubt if that will bother you Walter. What's wrong with you Mister Bass? You don't look well to me.'
Before Billy could answer, Ted said, 'I told him to go steady with the whisky, he's been in here since dinner time, looks like its making him ill.'
'Oh, really? He must have an identical twin brother; I could swear I saw him scurrying down Warren Lane about half an hour ago... Well, I would say he was doing about 40 miles an hour towards this pub.'
'Christ! Not another Billy Bass in Bogham, and one who can move quick,' Walter said.
'I've got my eye on both of you reprobates, I know you poach his Lordships land and sell your ill-gotten gains to Ted here for his Sunday Roasts; he even has the cheek to advertise his meals as freshly caught local game.'
'That's it, your barred!' Ted yelled, 'Don't you come in here accusing me without evidence.'
' Yeah, we don't want any Whore-lock Curses in here; you'll frighten all Ted’s customers away.'
The gamekeeper pointed his finger at Walter, a confused expression crossed his face, “what the hell is he talking about?” he thought, then he decided to address his words to Ted,
'I'll get the evidence; mark my words... This must be the only village with more than one Village Idiot in it.'
'Yeah and your the biggest one!' Billy yelled after the Gamekeeper as the latter left the pub shaking his head in disbelief.
'You know what I think Billy? Ted said as soon as he closed the door and walked across the car park outside.
'What?'
'I think I know who that Zombie was.'
