“Any more snow and we’ll be covered for the winter.” he told his friend.
“Then you better get out and find some food.” replied Rock.
“Why out? I was hoping to live off the rats and bats in the cave.”
“Then you would have to go deeper into the cave, and it’s very unstable.” Rock replied, shaking the interior of the cave, just enough so that a few stones fell, but not enough to cave in the roof. “See.” continued Rock. “What do you think would happen to you if you went in there?”
“I guess I would find food?”
“No you moron, you would be crushed by falling rocks.”
“But you haven’t crushed me yet.” Greg replied, starting to look confused.
“That’s because I’m your friend.” Rock said, inspiration suddenly hitting. “I overheard the other rocks talking, and they said that they were just waiting for a chance to get you.”
“Really, maybe if I talk to them they would become my friends and then I wouldn’t have to eat grass all winter.”
“Cave rocks hate everything.” Rock replied, not seeing how to talk Greg into another argument.
“You like me, and you’re a cave rock.”
“Outer cave rock.” replied Rock, pretending to be hurt.
“Sorry, but you all look the same to me.”
“Don’t”, “Do”, “Don’t”. Sometime later they got back to the subject of food and the deeper cave. Then Greg found a new friend, Gravel. Gravel was stupid and thought that everything Greg said was profound. Surprisingly enough Rock felt hurt.
Somewhere in Clemville
Hi. I hope you have enjoyed this story so far. I can’t give you too many details, but I thought if you got this far, you probably wouldn’t mind meeting the author. First off, I can’t tell you my real name, or any of my aliases. I owe a little money to One eye McCready, and as you probably know that’s not a very bright idea. Someone told me I could make some money transcribing manuscripts, but I ended up at The Swell and Donkey and had a few beers instead. That was when I first heard this story. Thinking it was a bit fanciful I did some research. You know the kind you do over a few beers with people that heard from a friend of a friend. Turned out that the facts checked out perfectly.
My best piece of luck came when the Clemville mob picked me up. Turns out that getting drunk and breaking into Sal Ca’pin’s house is not the brightest of plans. Urinating on his favourite chair, while he was still in it, may have alerted him to my presence. Luckily I had my wits about me, nothing like having ten burly men grab you and dip you in a vat of concrete to sober you up. I mentioned that I was writing this tale, and Sal himself pulled me out of the concrete. He sat me down on a stool, and told me his side of The Great Spa and Gangster Hide out story. I promised him I would tell it in his words, so he let me go, from the third story window of his house. Which brings me to my point. In the next bit there will be a title called ‘In Sal Ca’pin’s own words’ please ignore my screams of pain, his associates thought it would help my memory if they punched, kicked and did other unspeakable things to me.
Remember I mentioned I wasn’t that bright. My theory is if I can hide from McCready for this long, how hard is it going be to hide from the mob. You’ll understand in the next chapter. So if anything goes wrong, put some flowers in the Valmic and wish me a happy afterlife. (I just joined the cult of the screaming orgasm so it should be a blast.) Remember I brought you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the third or fourth hand truth as notarized by Bill.