∞ 30 ∞
Elsewhere in another forest:
Jerremee The Businessman, calmly handed the tattered Tesco groceries bag to the guy standing in front of him. The guy was broadly built, with a short buzz cut hairstyle. He wore expensive looking spectacles, a nice leather jacket and designer jeans, but was otherwise fairly rough looking. There were a few fresh nicks and scrapes on his knuckles and face and a dark, greasy patch on one of his knees, as well as fresh looking dirt and other dark splatters on the bottoms of his jeans and sides of his nice shoes. He held the bag up like he was weighing it. He looked angry. He looked in the bag and pulled out what looked like an ordinary rock.
"You havin' a laugh? Where's the rest?"
Jerremee looked at him innocently, as if he had absolutely no idea of what he was talking about. "Remind me what we discussed?"
"Look you fuckin' little twat," he grabbed Jerremee's shirt, yanking him towards him and getting close to his face. "You pulled the clueless act the last time. Now that may work wiv' your missis, but it don't work wiv' me. I only agreed to barter wiv' ya' cuz you said you had qual-i-ee. This don't look like 'qual-i-ee' to me. And you fuckin' know it ain't all here. So why do ya' have ta waste my time? Ay? Why? That really gets on my tits, it does. Now I don't want ta haf' ta hurt ya'. I don't. But I'm gonna have to now, cuz you're bein' a twat!"
Jerremee stared into the guys eyes in a strange way. The guy looked at him with misgivings and released him, shoving him back a bit. Balancing himself swiftly, Jerremee smiled glassily and shifting his weight, very slightly repositioned himself closer to the guy. He stared, smiling at him in a more determined way, opening his eyes just slightly wider.
"What the fuck are you doin'? Got somethin' in your eye? You're not 'funny' are ya? If you are, no offence, but keep it to your fuckin' self mate. You're wastin' your time here."
Breaking his gaze, Jerremee took out his wallet calmly, maintaining his innocent and unknowing act. There was a 5 pound note and a 20 franc note (worth a little over two pounds) inside. He also pulled out an assorted collection of loose change from his pocket: some French and English coins, as well as a few Swiss, Croatian, Greek, Swedish, Spanish and Russian ones. He handed it all to the guy calmly and smiled submissively.
"I know what a big shot you are, not like my last dealer. If you would be willing to graciously act as my banker for a couple days, I will give you an extra bonus on Tuesday, as interest for your generosity and patience."
The guy looked down at the pocket change with incredulity. "Ooow do you fink I am, Fred Fuck'in' Perry? What am I supposed to do wiv' 'vis?" He shoved the two paper notes and coins into Jerremee's shirt pocket.
"But... you don't have a licence? A businessman like you? Oh – I was sure you must."
"Naaa, imagin that, ay? I don't need any 'bonus'. Awwlright? Where's the fuckin' dosh?!"
"You know how it is. Huh-huh," he laughed in his usual wooden tone, "Being a business man, you probably run into cash flow problems yourself."
"Yeah, I do," the guy said ironically, looking at his scraped knuckles. "Too often mate. Too often."
"And the miss-us at home always asking you for things I bet – putting pressure on you, I imagine. I know the feeling mate," Jerremee added in a smarmy tone.
"Leave my missis out ov this awwlright?" said the guy wearily. "Look – why can't you just pay like normal, ay? My fuckin' duodenal is killin' me from 'aving to take my pay out of little pricks like you, by kicking the shit out you, but you never learn. Look at this. I've fuckin' mucked up my Dolche's and awl," he said looking down at his jeans with disappointment. "I'm just tryin' to make a livin' like everyone else. Look at this mess. I just bought this," he said noticing a nick on his leather jacket and looking both frustrated and miffed. "I don't know why you lot can't just act normal. You little twats awwlways 'ave to play like big shots. So be a big shot and pay! Or else I'm gonna rip your fuckin' legs off and shove 'em down your fuckin' throat! Then you won't 'ave anyfink to worry about!"
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A Semi-Autobiographical Story About Belonging, True Kinship & Real Love... A different sort of Lucius Malfoy: eccentric, Swedish billionaire, Lucian Isholmborg (the ex Lord Malfoy) is handsome, elegant and famous. So why does he want to kill himsel...