A little of this and a bit more

Alan Crawford presents twisted short and some longer stories for adults, with quite a number of his rants and observations as well.

Several curious people, really it’s just one, asked me how or where the ideas came from. Thankfully there’s no clear answer. When the trousers, mind, or weather conditions suit such things, the computer opens, a page appears, and it starts to flow. See menu for the main Short Stories.


Alan and Nancy

Reading Time: 6 minutes

An incredible thing happened, not The Thing that Happened, this was something else. This was to become my interview with a caveman. It began while I was having a cheeky glass or two of beer in a very discreet drinking establishment. I was approached by a terribly indiscreet young lady. She wanted me and wanted me to want her, a lot. As rare as this wonderful outburst was, I was well rehearsed, the internet searches prepare you for such a thing and even offer a well crafted blow by blow description in case. She was called Nancy, I am Alan and she stated rather boldly that she wanted me to be her Nancy Boy. An odd use of that term but I understood immediately.

Off we went, to get off.

After the warm glow, the snooze and theft had subsided I was left alone. Alone in a strange hotel room, no cash, no mobile, no wallet, no clothes and a note leaving me no doubt of how foolish I’d been. I was satisfied sure, but I had regrets. I mean who wouldn’t, she was fantastic. She was young, female, wild red hair like a highland princess and wanted me. Ridiculous. She did leave a clue though and I think that was a mistake.

I read the other side of the rather mocking note she’d left to discover some other writings in English. It contained a map and a large X marks the spot. Although the spot was smack in the middle of the Gold Coast, at Alansvale while the start here text and foot steps icons began in the mountain range behind. Mt Tambourine was the area and I realised that I should get back on the internet, clear my previous search history (no time for that) and find out what this map, which is what I now called it, was all about. Something about a caveman.

I gathered some small change

I found it in the small dresser in the hotel room and rang my best friend. I realised that I had not spoken to him for at least 28 years so I wasn’t surprised when I found I’d called the wrong number. I’d have to manage this adventure on my own. My Own was the name of my apartment. This prophetic nomenclature was handy in many ways. Some may become relevant or vaguely interesting as this story continues. May be not. You’ll decide.

So …. I pack my stylish one man shoulder bag that slides off my slopping shoulder all the time and jump in my car. I head up to the X. I quickly discovered that it was in Google Maps and was signposted along the way. Not much of a secret I thought and not much of a treasure hunt with a worthy reward. Maybe Nancy was having a lend of me, like claiming my immediate possessions. I went on. I did stop for a quick wee though just in case.

The car park at the X was chocker, that’s full for those not understanding the slang, great big mobs of is another way of describing the number of cars, bikes, buses, motor and push bikes and their occupants at this less than unknown location. The X was 10 metres tall sign and flashed out a now open now to both sides of the mountain. I realised I’d actually been wondering about its meaning from My Own’s balcony.

I wondered while dodging things, where should I go? An abrupt smack on my arse disturbed by geographical confusion. It was Nancy. She said rather whispery “Come with Me Knob Head”. I don’t know why she called me that but as I stared to follow she handed me a small Cole bag containing my money, wallet and clothes. They had been washed and ironed. The money remained crumpled. The X map was meant to get me here it seemed. Yes I’m a little thick and signals confuse me sometimes, but why didn’t she just invite me? Why this charade?

I followed Nancy

Truth be told I’d follow her anywhere. Her backside glowed like the Sun and drew me to the memories she’d left me. She was wearing those micro tight yoga pants with the gather seam at the back and a toe that defied the physics of fabric. They were white and they matched the halter top that strained at the job demanded of it. Her hair … well you get the drift she looked, smelt and tasted fabulous. I grabbed her as she sped of and licked her arm so anyone watching would know I’m lucky enough to be with her. Yes, with is a stretch, struggling to keep up more precise. She was fast and I remained her Nancy Boy.

Now you might be wondering where the blazes is the Caveman? Well, as we stopped at the edge of the bulging carpark we arrived at a thick garden, almost ignored and overgrown. Odd though really as it offered half hidden sign saying Caveman this way.  X marks the spot indeed. We both went in and I regretted it immediately. Nancy had gone ahead and had left me. Again. In the dark, with a shoulder bag falling off my shoulders, a Coles bag with my stuff and a map. I gathered my thoughts and jumped a foot or two when a voice asked me for a light. 

Shit stained I turned around and found a 68 year old man standing there. It wasn’t a guess there was a sign above his head that read “Eric is 68”. So Eric was standing there in a washed out hippy robe piece of ripped material with all of his gender reveal revealing. He was a man it seemed and he wanted a light of his cigarette. I don’t smoke anymore but being a prepared anal fuss body I had a lighter and shot some flame his way. He took the first drag, as the smokers describe it, all the way down to his ankles, thought about it for moment or three and blew it out. A bong hound would have been proud of the performance.

I was then alerted to another sign on the right side of Eric. It said you can ask Eric 4 questions if they are deemed to be interesting, you may win a prize. Well bugger me I though why not. I tried to be writer of short stories, surely I could ask 4 breathtakingly insightful questions and win a prize. i thought about it and off I went.

This is a record of this interview, I had a recorder on me as well. 

Q – Have you fulfilled your life dreams by ending up in this situation? ( I thought that’ll set a tone and show him how clever I am)

A – Yes (well that didn’t work out, I should not have asked a simple yes or no question)

Q – Are you satisfied with your life’s choices and your current situation here in this cave?

A – Bugger another Yes.

Q – Ok, What has lead you to this role in this cave at X the role you play in the Q & A? 

A – Well Nancy said she would bring unsuspecting men here. We would kill them and sell their body parts on the dark web. She’s very resourceful. We take you out the back and put your body in the waiting truck and down to our warehouse in Mermaid Waters. 

Q – How do think you’ll get away with it, loads of people couldn’t have missed seeing me with her? 

Clever me didn’t wait for his answer, I bolted out of the front entrance like a startled gazelle, through the garden and straight into a swarm of heavily armed Police. They grabbed me nicely, and with a believable level of reassurance suggested I stay here with the Constable Smith. I did wonder if his name really was Smith.

I waited with him as instructed for at least 45 minutes

Suddenly, after the 45 minutes, the swarm came out. They had gathered up Eric and his signs while explaining that Nancy had escaped. The truck was there, the interior was stained, allowed floating bits of body and stuff to move about. She has managed to avoid the swarm. She was clever and nimble indeed. 

After some embarrassing interview questioning and avoiding the incredulous reactions of the Police, I was driven home to my place. I opened the door stepped inside apartment 2204 and returned the go gadget go materials to their specific storage locations. The door bounced with a serious knocking. I opened it to find Nancy standing there. She was out of breath and looked like she’d run a marathon. She still looked both hot and very hot. I let her in. 

Note … The Police finished this story in their final report. Alan had an annoying habit of providing voice overs in a Mr Announcer style to his daily life. This episode was even greater due to the audio recording of it all. Alan had provided a real time run down of his own rescue and demise. Nancy was eventually convicted of his murder and both Nancy and Eric of a larger number of murders. The Police kept Alan’s story as evidence and with caution allowed it to be published here at alancrawford.com.au – Thank you.

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I'm an increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short and slightly longer stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024

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