'You've been my friends for years,' said the T-G, cocking his shotgun. 'How could you do this? Stealing from me. It's an absolute disgrace. You only had to ask and I'd have let you turn the rug over to see the map, if indeed that's what it is. But it's too late for that now. Just get in the oubliette before I open fire.'
We were teetering on the rim of a forty foot deep 'oubliette' - a bottle-necked dungeon from which there was no escape other than Death itself.
We could hear the tide rushing against the rocks far below.
'Oh it's not enough that it's bottle-necked and forty feet deep - it's got to be tidal as well!' wailed Tuppence.
'Yes! And don't start getting your hopes up thinking you can sail out with the tide. You can't because the hole it comes in is much too small. And you won't have a quick death through drowning because the tide doesn't come up far enough. Eventually you'll die of starvation or foot-rot, which ever comes first. Your only luxury is the tide will wash away your faecal matter.' gloated the T-G. 'Not that there will be much of that after the first terror-induced spasms, because you won't be getting any food. Heh heh heh.'
And he let fly a hail of buckshot.
We all leapt into the dungeon hoping for the best. Well, it's all you can do sometimes.
Next time - Dave arrives with a care package from Val...full of pampering products made from nettles. What a shame he didn't bring a rope - oh wait...
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