Frugal sat against a tree reading his favourite book. He never admitted to anyone that he could not, in fact, read. So he looked at the pictures. As there were no pictures, he was forced to visualize images in his head. He wondered what his psychiatrist would think of these images. Then he remembered that he didn’t see a psychiatrist. Now he was confused.

  In the distance he heard an old haggard voice singing “Its Raining Men”. He looked up and smiled broadly.

  At that moment an old man, wearing a cowboy hat and smoking a cigarillo, was riding along on a bright yellow bicycle, with stabilisers attached.

  The old man looked up to see a small child standing on top of a small hillock at the side of the road with his arms crossed looking at him.

  The man, noticing this odd behaviour, said “Well? What do you want?” And sneered.

  The child looked at him, visibly hurt by this.

  “Gangrene. It’s me, Frugal.” he said

  “Fru-who?” asked the obviously senile old man.

  “Fru-GAL.” replied Frugal.

  “Oh, of course!” said Gangrene with a strong shrug of the shoulders.

  Frugal looked at him seriously. “Well, even though you have no idea who I am, I’m glad you're back.”

  “Back? Where?” Gangrene asked.

  “Hodditon of course. You‘ve been off on one of your adventures for ten years. I‘m glad to see you again.” said Frugal.

  “I don’t think this child knows what he’s talking about, Kensington.” said Gangrene to the imaginary chimpanzee on the unicycle to his right.

  “Who is Kensington?” asked a clearly confused Frugal.

  “I take offence at such stupidity!” barked Gangrene. “I shall not take such insolence. Especially not from a mere child!”

  Frugal looked at him quizzically. “Gangrene, I’m not a child. I’m a Hoddit. You know that.”

  “Oh, a Hoddit, I see.” said Gangrene in a frighteningly condescending tone. Then, leaning to his right, he whispered “Just smile and nod. It should get bored soon enough. Then we’ll make a dash for it.”

  Frugal decided that it was useless to continue on this course and changed the subject.

  “I take it you’re here for the party.”

  Gangrene’s eyes lit up. “Party?” he asked, like a child realising what its parents have gotten it for Christmas, before it tears off the wrapping paper.

  “Bulbous' party.” said Frugal. “For his 111th birthday.”

  “Where’s that then?” asked Gangrene, growing suspicious of this small creature.

  “Up at Plastic Bag-End.” answered Frugal. “I’ll take you there if you’d like.”

  “OK. But any funny business and Kensington will make short work of you. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” said Frugal, playing along.

  Frugal stood on the bike’s back pegs and directed Gangrene on how to get to Plastic Bag-End. The sun shone down upon the wonderfully picturesque village of Hodditon on yet another bright summer’s day. It always seemed to be summer here, yet no one seemed to notice. The only ones that did hadn’t told two people of this strange coincidence, before they disappeared and were never seen nor spoken of again. But it really was a lovely place to raise children.

  “So Gangrene,” said Frugal “what have you been up to for all these years?”

  “Well, seeing as how we’ve only just met, and how some information may, should I declare it to the wrong person, incriminate me, all I can say is “adventures”.” said Gangrene.

  Frugal took a moment to process what Gangrene had said. “OK.” he replied.

  “So,” said Gangrene thoughtfully “this Bulbous person. Who is he?”

  Frugal gave a small sigh before replying. “He’s my second cousin, whom I live with. He accompanied you and a band of Dwarves to the Forlorn Mountain seventy years ago.”

  “Yes, very good.” said Gangrene, not actually listening.

  Suddenly Gangrene pressed his fingers on the brakes and the bike screeched to a halt on the cobbled path only a hundred yards from the very gate of Plastic Bag-End.

  “What did you do that for?” asked Frugal.

  “I can’t say that I am entirely sure.” replied Gangrene, oblivious to his own lack of any semblance of sanity.

  “Well,” said Frugal “Plastic Bag-End is right up there. Just knock on the door, I’m sure Bulbous will be overjoyed to see you.”

  “Uh, thank you young lad.” said Gangrene as Frugal leaped from the bike.

  Gangrene began cycling up the path toward the destination of “Bulbous” and the promise of a party.

  Gangrene looked at the gate in front of him. On it was a very unmistakable sign, which read: “F*ck off! Unless I owe you money, in which case... F*ck off twice!”

  Gangrene, turning to his right said “What do you suppose that means?”

  He seemed unsatisfied by what one can only presume to have been the answer. Climbing off of his bike, Gangrene fixed his hat and threw down his cigarillo. He stroked his long grey beard and pulled up his chunky brown leather belt. He walked toward the gate, which was at knee height, and pushed it open. As he did this, the hinges on the gate cracked asunder and the gate fell to the ground.

  “Humph.” Said Gangrene, looking at the fallen gate questioningly.

  As he approached the house, Gangrene noticed that it was built into the side of rather a sizeable hill. He thought this an odd way of building houses and began to wonder why he was even here.

  He looked at the door. It was perfectly round and very large. Thinking of the gate, he inspected the hinges. There was only one. It looked quite sturdy, but he didn’t trust it.

  He took his large crooked-fingered hand and rapped on the door loudly. A moment later he heard footsteps coming toward the door.

  “F*ck off!” came the command from behind the door.

  “I heard you were having a party.” called Gangrene hopefully.

  There was a pause. Gangrene heard several locks being unlocked and padlocks being un-padded. The door opened suddenly, with a long slow creak.

  A small figure, no bigger than Frugal emerged. He had a huge smile on his wrinkled and mottled face.

  “Gangrene?” he said with joy and amazement.

  “Apparently so.” said Gangrene.

  All of a sudden Bulbous’s face changed to stern anger. “F*ck off!” He said and shut the door with a bang. Just as Gangrene had thought, the hinge on this door was no good. As the door slammed into place the hinge gave up its long battle to keep the door standing and broke. The door fell inward and crashed to the floor, not quite drowning out the small squeal, which shot from Bulbous’ lungs as it smothered him.

  “Help!” came the quiet yet enthusiastic plea from under the door.

  “Oh so now you want my help, do you? A moment ago you told me where to go and now you want my help? You little sh*t!” said Gangrene, hurt and angered by this sudden change of heart. “You know all I want is to party. Every nightclub from here to kingdom come has been turned into an “18 to 30”. It’s bloody frustrating. I’m three and a half thousand years old you know. Does that mean I shouldn’t be allowed to have a good time?”

  “Help!” came another squeal.

  “I know, I know. The Elves are always up for a good time and half of them are even older than I am. But getting in a circle with a bong and singing cum-bah-ya just isn’t my idea of a party. Do you know what I mean?” asked Gangrene, happy to have someone to talk to.

  “Help!” came the plea, this time quieter but with more enthusiasm.

  “Oh, yes of course. I’m frightfully sorry. I’d all but forgotten about you, trapped under that door.” said Gangrene “My, my, that must be rather uncomfortable under there.”

  With that, Gangrene bent over and heaved the door off the old Hoddit with all his might.

  “Good Lord,” said Gangrene “that is one heavy door.”

  Bulbous crawled out slowly from underneath. He was breathing very heavily; such was his pleasure at being able to take as much oxygen as he very well liked.

  Gangrene and Bulbous sat in Bulbous’ small kitchen. Of course, it was big enough for Bulbous, but Gangrene felt a bit of a giant sitting there with his knees above the table. Bulbous took a boiled kettle from the stove and proceeded to pour the boiling water into a French teapot on the table.

  “So,” said Gangrene “apparently we’ve met before.”

  “Of course we have.” said Bulbous rather surprised by this.

  “Well then, why can’t I remember?” asked Gangrene.

  “Well, you said yourself,” said Bulbous “you’re three and a half thousand years old. You’re bound to forget something.”

  Gangrene looked at him blankly.

  “Did you just say that I’m three and a half thousand years old? Whoever told you that?” asked Gangrene.

  “You did, not ten minutes ago.” replied Bulbous, growing impatient

  Gangrene looked at him, a worried expression on his face.

  “Damn it!” exclaimed Gangrene “No one was supposed to know! I’ve been getting away with 67 for years now!”

  Bulbous began to wonder just how senile this old man really was. At that moment, Gangrene dived under the table and shouted for Bulbous to do the same. Bulbous obliged unenthusiastically.

  “Stay here for a minute.” said Gangrene “There are Tie Fighters all around us. I’ve told R4 to take over the ship and destroy them.”

  Bulbous looked at him confused, then suddenly he understood.

  “That’s Star Wars you crazy old fool! We’re in the Lord of the Rings! Totally different. And it wasn't even you that was in Star Wars! It was Alec bloody Guinness!” he said firmly.

  “Oh, now I see!” said Gangrene. “The Lord of the Rings! Well no wonder I’ve been confused, I thought I was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Well at least we‘ve sorted that little confusion out”

  Bulbous nodded in agreement.

  “Right then,” said Gangrene “straight to business then. Where is this magic ring of yours?”

  “Hang on a minute, you’re not supposed to know about that yet?” protested Bulbous.

  “Am I not?” asked Gangrene.

  “No,” said Bulbous “We’re supposed to have a good talk, then I have my party, then I leave and then you start to get suspicious about the ring. Do try to keep up.”

  “I really am awfully sorry,” said Gangrene “I only had a quick look over the script, you see. I thought I was going to be in Star Wars, so I memorised that script.”

  With that, Gangrene put his head in his hands and gave a long weary sigh.

  “I really am having a bad time of it lately.” He moaned. “Just last week I was caught off guard by Jean-Luc Picard, you know the one? From Star Trek?”

  “Mm” answered Bulbous

  “Well him and his merry band of drag queens defeated me when I tried to take over the world. Frightfully annoying.” He said. “And I could control metal and everything. What was I called again? Ah, that’s it. I was Magneto.” said Gangrene, puffing out his chest with pride.

  Bulbous got up from where he sat, across the table from Gangrene, and reached into one of the kitchen drawers. When his hand emerged it was holding a very powerful looking handgun. Bulbous looked at Gangrene in the eye and pointed the gun at him, tired of all of his nonsensical drivel.

  There was a huge explosion of sound and a bright light broke through the dusty kitchen. The bullet shot out towards Gangrene and he put his hand in front of his face to shield himself.

  At that moment, the strangest occurrence occurred. Instead of the bullet flying straight through Gangrene’s hand and embedding itself in his neural cortex, it stopped, turned around and did exactly that which was previously described, but to Bulbous.

  After a few seconds, Gangrene looked up to see why he was still alive. When he saw the prone body of the old Hoddit he said “Oh, I still have some of the old power left then?”

  Frugal entered the door to Plastic Bag-End and got quite a shock. There was a huge fire roaring in the hearth and in front of it a large rocking chair, larger than anything else in the house, rocked back and forward. But it was not the size of rocking chair that shocked the young Hoddit, rather it was the elderly man smoking a pipe in his shiny new birthday suit and singing “We’d Only Just Begun” at the very top of his, quite large, lungs. The walls of the house were positively shaking (as opposed to negatively shaking, in which case they wouldn’t be shaking at all) as the old man reached the height of the chorus. Frugal screamed at the top of his, rather small, lungs for him to stop. No reaction.

  With his eyes closed and the noise he was making, it would be fair to assume that Gangrene had not even heard the young Hoddit come in. If one were to assume such, one would be correct. As Gangrene swayed back and forth, the wind tingling his body in places quite illegal in most primary schools, all he was aware of were the years of old age dropping off him like flies. He could see a beautiful field, with huge sunflowers and the sun shining in the sky as though it was going to explode. He could feel his legs moving toward his destination. He could see her with his own eyes. The young girl he’d loved so much, but had to give up when he made the decision that it would be better for his career if he were gay. Her name was Lola and she had been a showgirl. It was when he’d told his good friend Barry Manilow of her that the whole thing had went too far.

  All of a sudden, Gangrene open his eyes startled. Frugal was in front of him, with questioning eyes.

  “What?” asked Gangrene angered by this intrusion. “You shouldn’t sneak around where you’re not welcome!”

  “Gangrene this is my house, you crazy old fool!” retorted Frugal.

  Gangrene snorted and waved his arm at Frugal, annoyed that he’d been corrected. He got up and wrapped his old grey dressing gown around himself and walked toward the hall.

  “Where’s Bulbous?” asked Frugal.

  “Oh,” said Gangrene “He left.”

  “What do you mean left?” asked Frugal.

  “He’s gone to stay with the Elves.” said Gangrene, fixing a seventh padlock to the extravagantly sized chest in the hall.

  “Oh.” said Frugal, disappointed.

  The party came and went. With the exception of a dragon attack and the deaths of a few Hoddits, whose names are not in the character list, it was decidedly uneventful. This was hardly surprising, since the Hoddit whose party it was, was not in attendance.

  None of the Hoddits seemed to give a damn. They sang happy birthday to Bulbous and proceeded to yell for a “speech”. After half an hour of complete silence, only three Hoddits, Frugal included, realised he wasn’t there. The rest thought him ignorant and couldn’t decide whether the bitter taste his conduct had left on their proverbial palates could be smothered by more of his “special” ale. After three hours of his “special” ale, only three Hoddits could even remember what had happened, and they, quite frankly, were too drunk to give a damn.

  A few weeks after the party, Frugal was walking through the hall of Plastic Bag-End, trying to figure out where that strange smell was coming from. He stopped next to the extravagantly sized chest with the seven padlocks and stood rubbing his chin. Realising that he was rubbing his chin, and that that was the only thought going through his mind, he decided to stop as it might give the impression that he was in deep thought. Which would have been wrong.

  He picked up a crowbar, which was placed a little too conveniently close to the chest. He then used the crowbar to prise it open.

  Half an hour later he was still there. The chest would not open. But Frugal, being a very determined creature who also had an acute disability to learn quickly, would not give up. Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door.

  As Frugal opened the door, he was surprised to see Gangrene standing in front of him. This feeling of surprise was quickly replaced by another feeling of surprise as Gangrene rushed past him and bent down to pick up the chest.

  Half an hour later he was still there. You see Gangrene was quite similar to Frugal in that he didn’t give up. But when it came to learning he was ten times slower than even Frugal. He didn’t even learn to tie his shoelaces until he was almost four hundred years old, by which time the out-dated traditional shoe was famously replaced, throughout the world, by the Plexiglas slip-on sandal. But we have no time for pop-culture here.

  Frugal was about to offer Gangrene a hand when he was knocked to the ground by a troupe of Dwarves. They took Gangrene and the chest and carried them away, without Gangrene knowing they were even there. It would be seventeen years before Frugal was to see Gangrene once more. To be honest, at this point he couldn’t care whether or not the crazy old naturist even came back at all.

  Now forty-eight years of age (and somehow still looking as though he were in his very early tweens), Frugal Baggage was collecting apples, which had fallen onto the ground from high above in the crooked branches of an old apple tree. The tree had been planted many moons previously, before even old Bulbous was born, by Granny Smith-Baggage. She had married into the Baggage family when she shacked up with Bulbous’ great grandfather Acorn Foothold Baggage III. Of course, when the apples of that tree became sought after, she had dropped the Baggage and had remained, until her very sudden and somehow unexplainable death, simply Granny Smith. When she died, Acorn inherited her entire fortune. With a considerable portion of it, he had built himself a rather sizeable, rather luxurious Hoddit hole.

  As Frugal bent down to pick up an apple he heard a sound that he hadn’t heard for nigh on twenty years. It sent a shiver down his spine and made his skin crawl. It was the sound of an old man singing a seventies disco sensation. “Sh*t!” He cried quietly. He dropped all of the apples he held and ran for his front door. Once inside, he closed it as quickly but quietly as he could. After many incidents in which he himself or a close friend had been badly injured, Frugal had decided that a regular light-weight rectangular two-hinged door was better than the gargantuan round single-hinged travesty he’d had before. He’d even installed a door-bell and a video camera and monitor so he could see who was there without having to even go to the door.

  Frugal was lying under a pile of coats when he heard footsteps approach the door. He trembled as he heard a quiet “Huh!” which he knew was Gangrene regarding the demon technology with suspicion and contempt. Then came a tut tut tut followed closely by three loud knocks on the very centre of the door. Frugal kept as still as he could, afraid to even breathe in case Gangrene sensed it. Another three knocks, louder this time, told him that Gangrene was getting a tad impatient.

  After a moments silence Frugal heard a strange new sound, rather like the sound of small pieces of metal being thrust against one another over and over. In fact, he thought, that sounds rather like keys. No sooner had the thought occurred than it was proved true. As Frugal listened in astonishment, Gangrene placed a key into the key-hole. He then turned it and a loud click became audible. The door handle turned and in strode the great old buffoon.

  Frugal jumped up from under the coats with gusto.

  “How the bloody hell did you get in here you old twat?!” screamed Frugal at the tops of his rather small lungs.

  Gangrene held up the key which had granted him access. “Master key.” he said, “It can unlock any door in the whole of Muddle-Earth.” He gave a broad, unfathomably smug, grin.

  “Hmmph!” retorted Frugal. **************************************************
  An hour or so later, Frugal and Gangrene sat in the modest kitchen in Plastic Bag-End. Frugal was preparing some tea for them both. As he didn’t have any cups large enough for Gangrene, he emptied out a plant pot and filled it for him.

  “Thank you.” said Gangrene as Frugal handed it to him.

  Truth be told, Frugal was still very annoyed that Gangrene was even there.

  “Seventeen years!” said Frugal “Not a word, not a post card, not a phone call. Not even a god-damned carrier pigeon! And now you turn up out of the blue. What do you want Gangrene?”

  The old man eyed Frugal very closely. He still didn’t trust this Hoddit. after all, he was all wrinkly and middle-aged looking, but no bigger than a child. How weird is that? he thought to himself.

  “Do you remember the night that Bulbous left?” asked the old wizard.

  Frugal nodded.

  “And do you remember that he left you all of his possessions?”

  Frugal nodded.

  “Did you ever find an envelope on the mantel-piece?”

  Frugal nodded.

  “And what was inside this envelope?”

  Frugal nodded.

  Gangrene slapped him across the cheek with aplomb.

  “Listen to me.” said the wizard softly.

  “Sorry.” said Frugal holding a palm over his reddened cheek.

  Gangrene looked at him closely again. “What was in the envelope?”

  Frugal looked at him, confused.

  “Just some old ring.” he said nonchalantly.

  Gangrene visibly caught his breath when he heard this. He sat back in his chair and his shoulders slumped. he took a long slow drag of a pipe he was smoking. After a moment he sat forward again and looked Frugal directly in his left eye.

  “Where is it?” he asked.

  “Dunno.” answered Frugal unceremoniously.

  “What?!” shouted Gangrene rather ceremoniously “What do you mean “DUNNO”?”

  “I don’t know. I sold it.” said Frugal.

  “To whom?!” demanded Gangrene.

  “To some weirdo. He was dressed all in black and he rode a black horse. His voice was raspy. When he saw the ring he got very excited. Said he’d trade me all of his Pokemon cards for it. What an idiot. He had rare Japanese cards in that bunch and he traded it for a worthless ring. Must’ve been an antique dealer or something.” said Frugal, with no idea of the rage he was about to witness pouring from Gangrene.

  “AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!” screamed Gangrene, “What the bloody hell have you done you stupid midget?!?!?!”

  Frugal looked quite taken aback by this. He was not expecting such an outburst from the old wizard. In fact, he’d thought that Gangrene would be rather pleased with him. After all, he had gained more than three thousand Pokemon cards in the trade. If he sold those he would make a tidy sum.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Frugal.

  “What’s wrong?!” roared Gangrene, with fire shooting from his eyes. “I’ll tell you what’s bloody well wrong! That ‘worthless ring’ you traded is the weapon with which the Dark Lord Sour-One will cover all the lands of Muddle-Earth in a second darkness!”

  “An eclipse?” asked Frugal confused.

  “What?! Of course not you complete tool!” shouted Gangrene becoming frustrated. “I mean Sour-One will take over the world and the light of Sun as she dances merrily on the fields and swims effortlessly through the oceans will be snuffed out forever. The evil creatures of the World will dominate in the eternal light of the Moon. The Dorks and the Bullfrogs will run rampant across the burning fields and the mountains will crumble under the almighty power of the voice of Sour-One. We will all die or be enslaved. And it’s all your fault you brainless little Hoddit.”

  “Oh” said Frugal “That can’t be very good”

  “It isn’t.” replied Gangrene, calming a little as the Hoddit began to understand.  “And that ‘man’ that you gave the ring to was not a man at all. He was a Nostril. One of the nine servants of the Dark Lord Sour-One. They do his bidding. They are undead and they walk among the living only in guise, for they in fact do not belong upon this plain of existence. They are Traffic Wardens.”

  At this Frugal visibly gasped. He could not believe that he had been so close to a traffic warden and had not realised it. He didn’t understand how it was possible. As far as he, or any other Hoddit, knew the Traffic Wardens had all been successfully destroyed during the War of Incalculable Debt. Was he to believe that now, so many thousands of years later, these creatures of legend had returned?

  “They were never really destroyed.” said Gangrene as though reading his mind. “Their bodies were destroyed but their spirits lived on. You see, in order for them to cease from existence, their essence must be destroyed. And their essence is the Immovable Parking Meter which stands upon the very pinnacle of Mount Calamity. That is the Dark Lord’s fireplace. That mountain provides him with all the energy he needs to keep his evil empire running. It is in the middle of a great field of five sides that is known as the Pentagon."

  Frugal was having a difficult time understanding all of this talk of things that were much bigger than he could ever imagine. He was a simple Hoddit. All he cared for were trees and fruit, ale and bread, a song and a story. He had no immediate wish to see the world outside of his small country. But, in the back of his mind, a shadow and a threat grew He wants you to do something, it said. Something that you wont like.

  Gangrene looked squarely at the young Hoddit.

  "Now Frugal. Thanks to the information you have given me I must now leave and try to recover the Ring before we are all brought to destruction. I have no time to waste and every second brings Sour-One's domination closer."

  Frugal got up from his chair "OK" he said, moving toward the door to see the old man out before he could give him an, invariably tedious, task.

  "I suppose you'd best be off then." the Hoddit said hopefully.

  The Hoddit could sense that Gangrene was about to protest. He was going to tell him that he needed his help, a tiny little Hoddit's help. And then Frugal would be entangled in his ridiculous adventure forever.

  "Bye then." said Gangrene as he shuffled his way out the door.

  Frugal was left on his own, surprised and very relieved.

******************************************************
  The air in the Pink Dragon was stuffy that night. Frugal sat at his table watching intently as Rosie Cotton-Panties danced on the stage in front of him. He pulled a 20 Hoddi-dollar bill from his pocket and waved it in front of him with a wink of his eye. As she bent over to courteously accept the generous donation, she pulled the strap of her pink cotton panties (which was from wence she took her name) away from her milky hip and Frugal slipped it in, making sure to cop a rather generous feel before retracting his hand.

  There was a large fat black Hoddit sitting next to him wearing very dark shades with very ludicrously pink and large frames. His expression turned to anger as he noticed Frugal's behaviour toward Rosie.

  "Yo!" he said in an extremely high-pitched voice "Wha’ chu think you playing at?"

  Frugal turned and looked at him. He now noticed that, as well as the ridiculous shades, he was also wearing very tight, very pink trousers and a tiny purple waistcoat. It was so small that the large gold buttons on it barely managed to hold it together and contain his very large, very black man-breasts. Frugal almost laughed at the sight of this monstrosity, wondering what he could possibly have meant.

  "Now what could you possibly have meant?" asked Frugal.

  The other Hoddit sat up, one of the buttons of his waistcoat popping off as he did so and piercing the skull of a nearby dog, it died later in hospital. He was now looking Frugal squarely in the face.

  "I said wha’ chu think you is playin at playa?" replied the Hoddit.

  "I really don't know what you are talking about. I'm just here enjoying a nice show and you are interrupting it for me."

  "Yeah you is enjoyin’ it a little too much playa!" retorted the Hoddit.

  "Oh you mean...? What concern is it of yours?" asked Frugal.

  "Thats my girl, homie! you best back the f*ck off my girl befo I get all up in yo ass!"

  Rosie, who was still dancing, had noticed what was going on. She quietly jumped from the stage and came over to stand in between the two Hoddits, both of whom were on their feet ready for an encounter.

  "Goddamn it Shazam! What is wrong wi’ chu?" she screamed. "Dont you know I'm workin'? You come in here gettin' all up in my space! Hows a girl s'posa make money if you be all harassin' the clientel and sh*t! Damn!"

  "I'm sorry baby. You right. You right. But you gots to treat yo body wid a little bit mow respec' and sh*t." replied Shazam.

  Frugal could sense that there was tension between these two and that he had not necessarily been the reason for the argument. So he decided it best to draw attention away from the situation.

  "OH MY GOD!!! FIRE!!!" He screamed at the top of his very small lungs.

  When everyone in the club just looked at him as though he were a psycho waiting to be escorted to the nearest loony bin, he decided to try a different approach.

  "Come on Shazam, is that your name? Let me buy you a drink and we can all forget about this. What do you say?"

  A broad smile came across Shazam's face at the suggestion of alcohol. "OK homie. We can forget all about this whole thing if you get me a Malibu and Coke."

*************************************************
  After getting the drinks in Frugal sat with Shazam and they talked. When the drinks were done, they bought more and talked again. This went on all night and then the next, and the next after that, until Frugal and Shazam were the very fastest of friends. Every so often Shazam would send Frugal a gift. It was usually one of the dancers from the club, whom Shazam had affectionately labelled his "Honeys", it was after all Shazam's club. This happened for a while. Frugal had to request that he cease with this habit after his fifth visit to the VD clinic, in which the doctor told him that he was dangerously riddled with diseases and asked his permission to write a medical journal about him.

  One night, after Frugal had managed to resist the temptation of the Honeys, he was stumbling home quite intoxicated. As he rounded the corner toward Plastic-Bag End, he tripped over a large rock and fell headlong into the underbrush.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhh....” he quietly sighed.

  As he negotiated his way back to his feet, Frugal looked behind him to where the great rock lay. He had to look twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things. You see, to Frugal, on that warm spring night, it appeared that the rock in front of him were breathing! It gently heaved up and down with the fluidity of an old man who had trouble breathing due to a build up of fluid within the lungs. As Frugal stood, staring in disbelief, he heard the lump of living rock make an odd sound. It seemed that the rock was now speaking to itself! As Frugal stood in abject disbelief, he decided that the best course of action was to try to communicate with the creature.

  “Hellll-o?” he asked softly, stifling a quite badly timed drunken giggle.

  There was a stirring within the belly of the beast. It began to move ever so slightly toward him. Frugal panicked at this and turned on his heel, quickly sprinting the rest of the way to Plastic-Bag End.

  Once inside Frugal let out a huge sigh of relief and fell to the ground on his bottom. He was glad to be in the relative safety of his immodest home. He stood up again after several minutes and slowly made his way toward the pantry where a bounty of cakes and wine awaited him.

  He opened the large, iron framed, pantry door with a heave. He could smell the lovely sweet scent of icing and cherries as he reached for the lamplight to his left. As he turned the light on, Frugal was, once again, shocked at the sight with which he was met. For it was none other than to old codger himself, the one that had been gone now for a full fifteen years, who was sitting on his favourite stool, eating the last of his twinkies.

  “Gangrene!!!” he yelled enraged. “What he bloody hell are you doing in here?”

  Gangrene was shocked at this most discourteous of greetings and did not mind showing his hurt.

  “Well if that is how you greet an old friend...” he managed, trying to force back the crocodile tears “then perhaps I'd best just be leaving then.”

  Gangrene stood up, his bottom lip quivering as though a small earth-quake were taking place inside his generously hirsute chin. He made his way slowly, leaning heavily on his old wooden staff for effect, toward the large rectangular door. He groaned under the pain of a lonely old man who just wanted somewhere warm and comfortable to sleep for the night. A man so hungry he nearly ate his own frost-bitten toes on the slopes of Mount Tourniquet. A man to whom the word friend was almost an alien concept. A man.....

  “Gangrene!” interjected Frugal “stop saying all that! Have it your own way. There is a spare bed in the study. I'll make it up for you. By the looks of my pantry you won't need supper. And from the fact that I still get AA letters saying I'm your sponsor, you won't need any wine.”

  Gangrene’s crooked old face lit up at the sound of this.

  “Oh Fable, my boy, I knew I could count on you.”

  “Frugal.” said Frugal.

  “Yeah, whatever.” replied Gangrene.

  With that they both said their goodnights and went to bed.

**************************************************
  Frugal awoke to the sound of coughing coming from the spare room which he had made up for Gangrene. The word “coughing” here is not, perhaps, the most suitable. Frugal thought to himself that maybe the word “choking” was better.

  As Frugal sat there contemplating the intricacies of language, the choking got worse. Frugal quickly jumped out of his bed and stood on the cold stone floor. The shock of the cold sent a shudder up his small, white body. The crisp, cool morning air made his giblets tingle. He reached over to the chair next to his bed and picked up his dressing gown. As he wrapped it around himself he walked out into the hallway, where the sound of coughing was louder.

  As Frugal entered the room where Gangrene was, he was suddenly aware of a pungent scent in the air, one which immediately sent him into a coughing fit of his own. As he fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, Frugal looked up and saw Gangrene viciously kicking a rock that was sitting on the floor. This, though, was no ordinary rock. You see, from the top of the rock there came a thin line of smoke. It was the most remarkable thing Frugal had seen in his unremarkable life. As he watched on in amazement, the Hoddit was overcome by the horrid odour and his face hit the ground, unconscious.

  When he awoke, Frugal was lying in his hoddit bed with a mug of hoddit tea sitting on his bedside table. Gangrene was sitting in a under-sized hoddit chair next to him. The old fella leaned over as Frugal opened his eyes.

  “Good morning my young lad!” he hollered at the still dizzy Hoddit.

  “What happened?” enquired Frugal. “I came into the study and you were kicking a rock! And there smoke coming out of the top of it!”

  Gangrene sat a moment, contemplating the question as though he were silently debating whether to take the doughnut with the jelly filling or the one with the chocolate coating.

  “Well I do like a bit of jelly, but can I really turn down that lovely chocy coating? Its a pickle... no doubt about it.” Gangrene muttered to himself almost inaudibly.

  Frugal had heard every word he said, having very large Hoddit ears.

  “Gangrene!” he vocalised forcefully “What the hell is going on?! I don't see you for fifteen years then you come back and things start attacking my bloody house! Explain yourself you thick old Paul Daniels obsessive!”

  Gangrene knew that he could not avoid the truth any longer. He stood up to add gravity to the words that were about to come out of his mouth and then sat back down to convey the seriousness of the situation. Frugal didn't get any of that. He just thought that the old man had lost the last tiny segment of his mind.

  “OK.” said Gangrene “That was a spy of Sour-One. I think it has been watching you for a few years.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Frugal.

  “I opened it up and there was a tape inside that said “Year 4, March” on it.”

  “What is going on?” pleaded the Hoddit.

  “Here goes. Do you remember that ring I told you about?”

  Frugal nodded “How could I forget. You told me the world was going to end.”

  “Yes, well, for the past fifteen years I have been on a hunt for that ring. You see, although one of Sour-one's servants took it, he couldn't just take it straight to Him.”

  “Why not?” asked Frugal, confused.

  “Because, my young lad, that would have been too easy. Sour-one would have the ring now and we'd all be dead or enslaved. Where would that leave the story? Pointless.”

  Frugal shrugged “Makes sense I guess.”

  “So he went in a really long, round-about way to get to the Dark Land and there to Sour-one's Dark Penthouse. He had to travel in a zig-zag formation, covering thousands upon thousands of miles rather than take the straight road which would have taken only five weeks on foot. Instead, luckily, his journey last four and a half years. This meant I was able to intercept him. You should be thankful to the writer Frugal. If t'were not for his wily ways I would never have caught the Lord of the Traffic Wardens, and would not have in my possession the very thing that we must destroy to rid this world of evil forever.”

  “Ok I suppose I understand that but why has it taken you fifteen years to come back?” demanded Frugal

  “I forgot who I was.” said Gangrene. “I met a lovely lady and started a family. Got four beautiful children now.” He beamed.

  “Where are they now?” asked Frugal.

  “I don’t remember...” sighed Gangrene.

  The Hoddit was not surprised. “Well what of the ring?”

  At that Gangrene reached deep in his pocket and withdrew a shiny silver ring that was emblazoned with bright green scripture down the side. He held it aloft and made a sound as of ancient monks chanting in some forgotten language.

  “What was that noise for?” asked Frugal.

  “Effect.” replied Gangrene.

  Frugal took the ring from him a inspected it closely.

  “Well I wonder how this'll effect you.” Frugal said. “This is not the ring I traded him.”

  Gangrene shot up to his feet. “WHAT??!!!”

  “Yeah, the ring I gave him had red writing on it that said something about an apocalypse. This one has green writing on it that says “Made in Taiwan”. Its the wrong ring.”

  “Frugal, I must go now. I have very little time to reach him before he enters the Shadow-Lands. Gather some friends and make your way to the Elven city of Show'n'Tell. I'll meet you there in three weeks. If I do not have the ring it will be the safest place for you to be.”

  Gangrene turned to leave but just before he did he turned back to the young (actually quite old at this point) Hoddit.

  “Remember Frugal. Tell no one of this. We don't want to start a panic. On your way to Show'n'Tell you will pass a small town by the name of Brie. Its a smelly little place. There is an Inn there called The Legless Frog. Spend one night there. There'll be help waiting for you. Goodbye my young friend. And good luck.”

  With that Gangrene raced out of the front door and leaped onto his horse. Before Frugal could shout after him Gangrene was away in the afternoon sun.

  "Wait a tick" said Frugal to himself "He did tell me what that rock was all about.”

*******************************************************
  The next day, Frugal sat at his breakfast table contemplating what Gangrene had told him. He was nervous about leaving the safety of his home, the only place he had really known for the whole fifty years he had been alive. So many questions raced through his mind. What would happen? Would Gangrene save the day? Why was Show'n'Tell the safest place for him to be? Was Bulbous there? And the most pressing question... Who could he take with him on this dangerous trip?

  After thinking long and hard about it, Frugal decided that he must take Shazam with him. The two had become the firmest of friends and he had already proven himself to Shazam on numerous occasions, too many of which had been as the driver during drive-by shootings. Frugal gathered some belongings which included six toothbrushes (or should that be six teethbrush? I'm not sure. Please write to me if you know at idontcare@vsaduhvosuhdv9wuhrvuwher9vus.com), an iron lung, three feet of luminous yellow bubble gum and half a mouse, and packed them into a small carry-all that he'd bought from the county fete for just such an occasion.(Actually come to think of it, that could have been teethbrushes. Doesn't matter now really. Just a thought.) As he left the comfort of his Hoddit-hole for what he feared could be the last time, the Hoddit felt an overwhelming sense of dread, as though this trip would be the death of him. Frugal ignored this feeling, chalking it up to the expired mince he'd eaten for supper the previous night.

  Walking down the little streets (which to Frugal's little feet felt like normal sized streets) Frugal noticed eveything that he loved about his hometown as though for the first time. The Hoddlings running free in the grass without a care in the world. Every so often one of them would run onto the road and be flattened by a tractor. But, other than that they lived a peaceful, sheltered life. They had no idea of the evil the waited to set its schemes loose upon all the free peoples of Muddle-Earth.

  As he walked through the town he came to the bolted door of the Pink Dragon. It was open in the afternoon of course, but Frugal knew Shazam would be in there. He walked up to the door and knocked on it loudly seventeen times so Shazam knew it was him and not the Hoddit police. They frequently visited to make sure everything was in a good legal state. If Shazam just answered the door to anyone he would not have time to properly hide or dispose of the evidence. What evidence? I didn't say anything about evidence. There's nothing funny going on in there. You want to get your facts right, mate. Before you go shooting your mouth off like that. Could get you in a lot of bother you know.

  Where was I? Oh thats right.

  From behind the door, Frugal could hear the sound of bolts being un-bolted and locks being unlocked. The door swung open and there stood Shazam, an inch taller than Frugal and about fifteen inches more in diameter, which is a lot considering he was only three foot two!

  “Hey Fru, my man! Wassup dawg?” said Shazam with a broad smile.

  “Its not good.” said Frugal. “I need your help.”

  “Whatever you need, bro. Y'all know I got your back.”

******************************************************
  An hour and a half later, Frugal and Shazam sat in a private booth inside the Pink Dragon. Frugal had told Shazam everything. From Bulbous' surprise emigration to The Ring and lastly, how he needed to leave for Show'n'Tell. Shazam sat in utter shock at everything he'd heard. It was probably numbed somewhat by the amount of pipe-weed he'd been smoking during the course. But he understood nevertheless.

  “Wow man, I thought I was trippin' before. I know I am now!” said Shazam.

  “I don't like to ask this of you Shazam, but will you come with me?” asked Frugal?

  “Of course I will dawg! Brothers, that’s you and me.” replied Shazam.

  With that they shook hands firmly and gave each other manly, heterosexual hugs.

*****************************************************
  Two days later the two Hoddits were on the road. The journey ahead of them would be long. It would be at least three weeks before they reached Brie. That would only be if they did not encounter any trouble along the way.

*****************************************************
  Three weeks later they reached the gates of Brie, after a trouble free, rather fun-packed journey. Nights under the stars; eating tins of beans around the fire; kicking each other in the middle of the night because the other had performed a supreme fart, an absolutely unquestionable 6.0. Those were days that neither Hoddit would ever forget. And soon they would wish to have those days back.

*****************************************************
  The two Hoddits were standing at the large and ominous gates of Brie. To say that the gates were ominous is not technically a fair representation of the gates in front of which the Hoddits were standing. Perhaps it would be if I were discussing the Gates of Troy or another large scale, impressive and dominating protective structure made of a combination of wood and metal, with hinges the size of men and opening mechanisms that took a dozen strong-armed soldiers to operate. These gates however, were ten foot tall and made entirely of cheese. So perhaps odorous rather than ominous would be the word to use in this instance.

*****************************************************
  The two Hoddits were standing at the large and odorous gates of Brie. There was a large blue button on the side of the gate with a sign above it which read “Press button, wait for assistance.” in Man Speak, Elvish, Dwarvish and Evilish (a language which most evil creatures have stopped using on account of the fact that it makes them stand out in public places.). Frugal reached out his small hand and pressed the large button using practically all of his strength to do so.

  BING BONG! Came the gate's reply.

  The Hoddits stood there for e few moments, waiting. When twenty five minutes had passed and there was still no answer from behind the gates, Frugal pressed the button again.

  BING BONG!

  There came the sound of shuffling from behind the putrid gate. Frugal and Shazam exchanged confused glances. Actually, Frugal's glance could be described as one of confusion. Shazam's, on the other hand, was nothing like confusion. It was more like a condescending nod, which did not please Frugal at all. However he decided to let it go when a voice called out from behind the large yellow stench.

  “Keep your hair on!” it yelled. “I'm coming!”

  A short moment later the Hoddits heard a creaking sound as the doors were slowly pulled open. That doesn't seem quite right, does it? I mean, if the gate were wooden then, by all means, it may have creaked as it were being heaved open. But this gate was made of cheese. And what's more, it was wet cheese. No it definitely did not creak.

  A short moment later the Hoddits heard a squelching sound as the doors were slowly pulled open. They were standing face to face, or face to solar plexus, with a haggard old man with grey matted hair and a face that looked as though it had not only sucked a rather powerful lemon, but had actually hosted a lemon sucking contest. He stared at the Hoddits with utter contempt. Or maybe it was just from the lemon sucking. There was no way to be sure.

  “Hello there, kind sir.” said Frugal to this frightfully ugly man. “We were just passing by your lovely village here on our way to Show'N'Tell, when we remembered that Brie is famed for it's hospitality. We were wondering if we can have leave to enter this wonderful place and seek lodgings for the evening.”

  Frugal looked smilingly at the old man, hoping that his kind words had won him over. He needn't have bothered though, for the man had been sucking lemons and was not holding them in contempt as they had feared.

  “Absolutely young sirs!” replied the man. “Jessop is the name. Let me bring you in and we'll see if there are any rooms at the Legless Frog for you this evening.”

  As the gate-keeper pulled back the large cheesy gate, the Hoddits eyes were met by the unfavourable sight that is Brie. It looked simply awful. All over the place there was mould growing freely, great big fluffy blue balls of mould, as big as dogs, sometimes even horses. As they crossed the threshold they were hit with such an overwhelming smell that Shazam buckled over and puked out all the food, and several of the internal organs, in his body.

  “What is he doing?” asked the old man, who had somehow never seen someone be sick in his very long life.

  Frugal, sensing that this may cause some offence to the man, after all no one likes being told that their home is disgustingly vile, decided to tell him a white lie.

  “Oh, he's ummm.... fertilising the ground.” he said

  “Fertilising it?” The old man enquired inquisitively.

  “Yes, you see Hoddits are nature's strongest natural fertilisers. That liquid you see there will make daisies and roses and all manner of beautiful and exotic flowers grow there for years to come. You wait and see.”

  The old man only nodded questioningly.

  Frugal sensed that the time was right for a discreet change of subject.

  “Anyway lets change the subject,” he said with all the discretion of a herd of wildebeest. “We are looking to get to the Legless Frog. Could you give us directions?”

  The old man looked at him, ever did the suspicion inside his mind grow. These are not mere Hoddits, his mind was telling him. There is something very fishy about this pair.

  As indicated above by the use of italics, the man believed he was listening to some kind of internal monologue. This was far from being the case.

  “We are here to meet a friend.” explained Frugal. It wasn’t a lie. They really were here to meet a friend. So what if they missed out that tiny detail about holding the one weapon the could effectively bring an end to the entire world? He would never know the immense power that was within arms length and if he ever did he would have absolutely no idea what to do with such power. That year when he’d been asked to organise the sack race for the autumn fair he’d shown his complete inability to deal with any sort of power, no matter how trivial. Seven people had died...

  He peered at them still. Shazam was getting worried by this point. He had recovered from his violent episode and was now standing gazing at the old man in the dim light of the torches which hung from the walls around them.

  “Its just up that street to the right. You’ll recognise it by the huge neon sign that reads “Legless Frog”.” said Jessop with just a tiny hint of sarcasm.

  “Thank good sir. Squire of Brie. Servant of goodliness” replied Frugal a bit too enthusiastically.

**************************************************
  Frugal and Shazam were at the sign of the Legless Frog.

This story will continue next Christmas.