WALKIES
This story was incomplete when the old site went down. I shall post about one episode a week as long as there is any interest.
D' y' know what's worse than having a big brother who enjoys hiking? Well, how about having a big brother who enjoys hiking and is too fucking idle to carry his own gear? D' y' know what's even worse than that? Having a big brother who enjoys hiking, is too fucking idle to carry his own gear and is just about to post a video of you entertaining yourself on the bog with a certain sort of mag in your free hand! Let's face it, I wouldn't want anyone to see that vid even if the mag was a girlie one let alone one that wasn't. I was stuffed. That's how I came to be in this situation.
It was Saturday morning and I'd just finished in the bathroom and slipped on my boxers when I heard Ed calling me. I went along the corridor and poked my head round the door to his bedroom. "Hi, Shrimp, take a look at this." At fifteen years old I'm already five foot nine and ten stone but, before I could object to his usual sobriquet for me, I saw what he was watching on his computer. "You know that web cam I bought? It works. You know, you really should be more careful when you're beating the bishop; you never know who might be spying on you."
OK, the rest of the exchange was fairly predictable and certainly does not bear reporting in delicate company but what it boiled down to was, "Watch your language, gay boy, and do what you're told if you know what's good for you". Well, gay I may be but I am not stupid so I listened very carefully to what "Smegward" had to say.
He'd decided that he fancied a stroll on the hills and he'd decided that I was going to be his native porter. He knew a trail where the passes weren't too high but one that would end with a scramble down to a pine-fringed lake. He didn't think we would meet many other hill walkers but he suggested that, if we did, I should just confirm his assertion that I had lost a bet and was paying my forfeit. He also explained the alternative outcomes to any less satisfactory encounters. Oh, and that I had better go and change my clothes.
I became suspicious. "Yeah, I laid some gear out on your bed while you were shaking hands with an old friend." I thought the accompanying hand gesture was somewhat redundant. "OK. Dismiss." I opened my mouth but was too astounded to speak. "Get a move on, Donkey Boy, or I'll just post this little - erm - entertainment now." Two seconds was a long time then but, when I saw him move his index finger theatrically towards the keyboard, I departed with great haste but very little dignity.
When I looked on the bed, I saw my walking boots, one pair of thin socks, one pair of walking socks and Ed's somewhat battered old running shorts. You know: those baggy little white ones that he had to wear to training sessions when he was a member of the cross-country club at school - NObody wears that sort of thing anymore. That was about it.
I picked up the tatty little shorts and stormed along to Ed's room. "Oi, Smegward, why no briefs? I can't wear my boxers under these things.
"Oh, bum! I thought I might have time to put captions on the video before posting it. Oh well, never mind, here we go."
"No, no, please, I'll wear them but I might pop out."
"They're lined, should keep yours up OK. Let's face it; it's not very big in any case." (I deny that, by the way.) "Any more questions?" Ed moved his finger of fate over the keyboard.
"Watch your back from now on, Smeggy."
"Ooooh, the gay boy just stamped his foot. Just go and get dressed. I want to get going - - - or shall I post this little teaser for the main event?"
I had no choice. Defeated, I returned to my own room. I wasn't looking forward to the rest of the weekend or the next year in general, really. Ed had just finished the second year of his university engineering degree and was going to be back living at home for about a year on a work placement prior to his final year.
I stripped and stepped into Ed's cast off shorts. Surely they should have been thrown out years ago. I was probably a bit slimmer than my brother had been when he last wore the embarrassing scrap of material but the tie-cord held them up OK. I didn't feel very securely contained by the lining, though. Once I had put on both pairs of socks and my lightweight boots, I was still feeling vulnerable; I really did not want to be seen out walking through our housing estate like that.
I sat on my bed waiting miserably; then I heard the call. "You ready yet, Shrimp? Don't forget to go to the bathroom and put on some of that sun-block. Use lots, we're going on a long hike. You can wear your shades and my old bush hat as well." Oh great, that completed the nerd's outfit; Ed's old bush hat was probably nearly as embarrassing a garment as his old running shorts. So, there I was: boots that, because of my lack of trousers, made me look as if I had clown feet, shorts that barely covered my arse-crack and that I was probably going to have to keep tucking my bits back into, and the world's weirdest bush hat. I really DID NOT want any of my friends (or my enemies!) to see me.
You might not credit it but there was worse to come!
Having slathered myself in factor 30, I reported to Ed's bedroom as ordered. I was obviously going to have to take his rucksack, which was sanding already packed in the corner. I knew he wouldn't have packed too much for one of us and I had a good idea which one of us that would be. At least that might keep the weight down. He had all the latest lightweight gear but I couldn't help thinking about the way an aeroplane has to carry enough fuel to carry the fuel and that pack was probably going to be considerably heavier than it would have been if Ed had packed what only he needed. I looked at the high-packed bag suspiciously. "Oh, don't worry, Shrimp, it's only about 17 kilos, I weighed it. Of course, I could always take out some of the stuff that I won't need if you ask nicely." I'm not that thick and I could guess whose things he would remove. I quite thought I might need my sleeping bag and carry mat, both of which I could see strapped onto the outside of the pack.
I awaited the order to pick up the pack but Ed had another surprise in wait. He produced what looked like an old hemp rope. "OK, Shrimp, hold your hands out like this."
"Oh, come on, you fucking bastard, you know I can't afford to escape, there's no need to tie me up."
"Oh, what naughty language. I know there's no need, but I just thought it would look good." Things were getting worse: now not only would everyone see me dressed like this and laden like a pack mule but I would be tied up like a slave as well. "Now, just keep your wrists still."
Ed had obviously been practicing. He doubled the rope, passed the bight back over the double strand and formed two loops which he slipped onto my left wrist. He pulled tight and wrapped the double strands several times round my wrist before tying off through the original bight. "OK, let's just make you comfortable." So saying, Ed took my wrist in both his hands and sort of massaged the coils until the pressure was evenly distributed. It was uncomfortable but, in truth, it wasn't as painful as you might think. With another "reminder" not to move my wrists, Ed trailed both free ends across between my arms and wrapped my right wrist several times before tying off to the linking strands. There wasn't much trailing rope but Ed bound what there was round the connecting strands. Then he massaged the coils round my right wrist.
At least he hadn't tied my arms behind me and I was sure that he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on me all the time. It would be quite easy to reach the knots on the improvised handcuffs. All I had to do was bide my time. But . . .
"OK, Donkey Boy, climb through those ropes, get those hands behind you." That wasn't good but I thought I could probably still manage to untie my cuffs when Ed wasn't looking. I sat on his bed and did as I had been told. I was still sure I could untie myself when Ed wasn't looking.
"Just never say I don't do anything to help you. Back up." Ed had picked up the 80 litre rucksack and swung it up onto his study table with all its straps unbuckled. He threaded he padded waist strap between my arms and my abdomen and buckled it before pulling it tighter than I was enjoying. "Ah, ah, ah, any more of that language and I shall have to think of something to do about it. You know the weight should be on your hips." It certainly was when Ed pulled me away from the table. The pack remained upright as he threaded the shoulder straps into place. The pack hardly sat on my shoulders at all. Careful adjustment of the clever back system soon had the straps correctly positioned and the pack standing proud of my head.
Ed manhandled me to check his work before expressing his approval. Then he took a few photos. I was stuffed, I couldn't afford to disobey him and now I couldn't even reach the knots of my cuffs or tuck myself in if I fell out of the none-too-secure integral briefs in Ed's tatty old shorts. I had no dignity left to lose and I begged Ed not to make me walk through the estate so that everyone could see me. I was suspicious when he assured me that I had nothing to worry about and that he wouldn't dream of doing so. Then he produced a length of chain.
Following a certain amount of debate, during which my contribution didn't seem to be required, my brother decided not to fasten it round my neck but to padlock it tightly round my waist just above the waist belt of the rucksack. There were about two metres of it draped down in front of me and trailing across the floor.
"OK, ready, then? Let's go, my little pack mule." So saying, Ed ran his hand along the chain starting at my waist until he had a lead about a metre long in his hand and some of the chain wrapped around it. He led me downstairs (not pleasant) and out of the house. He locked the door and we started down the drive. I tried begging once more.
You know I said that I didn't have any dignity left to lose? Well, I must have been mistaken. I plumbed new depths of self-abasement with the flattering terms I applied to my brother as he was obviously leading me into public view. I can't even bring myself to tell you all the things I said and what I promised if only "The Mighty and Totally Compassionate Ed" would be generous enough to reconsider what he was about to subject his "humble little worm of a bother" (I think you get the idea.) to. Then he stopped well short of the gate. I thought all my toadying might have been worthwhile.
Ed felt round in the pockets of his Rohans until he found what he was looking for. We had come alongside the battered old 4by4 that he used for all sorts of purposes ranging from off-roading to bonking any girl he could seduce into it. Ed was brandishing the key. "OK, my humble little worm, climb up."
That was not going to be easy but I did try - anything rather than have to walk past people I would probably know. I put my foot in the rear step and tried to haul myself aboard but came into conflict with the rear frame and dropped to the ground again. I would obviously have to climb and crouch at the same time without landing forcibly on my face. I put my foot up again and started to push up but before I could get very far into my next attempt, Ed lifted me by the rucksack and more or less launched me into the rear of the filthy old wreck. That wasn't exactly pleasant but with the tarp in place and the tailgate raised at least I would be hidden from the gaze of anyone whom we might pass. That was one worry alleviated. Then Ed clambered in beside me.
"You know how fond I am of you, don't you?" I did not bother to respond. "Can't have you rolling around, can we? You might hurt yourself."
"Nooooo!" Ed opened the lid of one of the boxes that ran down each side of the vehicle. You know: the ones that can be used to store things in and which form gang seats once the lids are down. I really did not want to be consigned to what was basically a coffin. "Please, - Ed, - I - I promise I won't call you Smegward any more! - Honest! Please."
I saw the crocodile grin spreading across the big oaf's face. "Now, with bag - without bag? Nah, with, I think. Save time later." Then he picked me up as if he was carrying his bride across the threshold (Did I tell you he'd taken up rowing at uni?) and rolled me onto my side in the box. "Don't worry, Shrimp, the side boxes have to have holes in them or the stuff you put in them gets manky." The box was plenty long enough for me to lie full length although it was a bit of a push for width all the while I had Ed's bag on my back.
"Oh well", I thought "I can always roll over later." Then Ed reached for the chain that was still draped over the edge of the box and looped it around my left ankle after he had brought it towards my bum. Once he had padlocked it, I had only one leg left that I could straighten. I hoped the forthcoming journey was not going to be a long one.
"Sorry, Shrimp, can't have you getting out and hopping away."
"Oh, ha, ha! You know I can't bloody afford to escape. You're enjoying this, aren't you, you bastard?" Actually, the word I used was shorter than "bastard".
That grin again. "Yeaaah! Enjoy the journey." Then the lid slammed shut.
I don't know how long the journey took but, however long it was, it was too long. At least Ed had not left me much room to rattle around but I was trapped on my side the whole time. Eventually the swoosh of gravel could be heard as Ed brought the ancient vehicle to a halt into what turned out to be a lay-by in a not too distant range of hills.
I squinted somewhat as Ed lifted the gang seat and allowed light into my dingy cell. "You haven't asked me if we're there yet."
"Just get me out of here; it stinks of your old socks."
"No, it doesn't, it's just where we left that load of veg. in it too long last week. Went all sludgy." I sighed thinking about what I had probably been lying on. Now I would not only look like a slave but I would stink and would probably look like Baldrick on a bad day as well.
Ed released my chained ankle and flipped me out of the box leaving me on my back on the bed of the vehicle. He jumped down, dragged me to the edge and helped me to sit up. "OK, my little donkey, down you get.” I slid myself to the ground and, impeded by the rucksack, staggered somewhat and hoped that the cramp in my left leg would subside soon.
Ed climbed back into the 4by4 to retrieve his old bush hat from the box (I had mixed feelings about that.) and his day pack and one other item from the bed of the vehicle. The day pack did not look as if it was exactly overstuffed. Having dismounted and raised the tailgate again, Smegward pulled his bush hat down tightly on my head, readjusted the backpack (Without thinking, I automatically thanked him for that.) and checked that I was still securely bound. He had no need to worry; I was!
"Just thought I ought to complete the 'gold prospector's donkey' image." So THAT was what the frying pan was for.
"Oarr, please, haven't you done enough to me already?"
Ed stopped as if considering the question. The crocodile grinned again, "Nah!", and he fastened the blackened pan into the ice-axe loop on the rucksack. I knew that every time I moved from then on, the damn thing would swing like a pendulum whenever it wasn't bashing against either my legs or the pack.
"Watch the birdie!" The evil deed was done before I could even react. Ed seemed to object to what I called him then. "That, Donkey Boy, was a VERY bad move." Without saying anything else, Ed yanked me towards the vehicle and padlocked the chain onto the rear frame of the 4by4. It was too late to avoid whatever was in store for me so I got full value out of using language of which the Vicar would certainly not approve. Ed seemed to ignore me as he went about his business.
I'll give Smegward one thing, he was certainly well prepared. He took his sharp sheath-knife (You know, the sort that all Scouts try to get Skip to let them buy when they're in a camping store.) from his day-pack along with something in a freezer bag which he left in the back of the transport. He hacked a thin, vertical branch from a nearby stooled hazel tree and ostentatiously set about his self appointed task.
Ed held the almost straight growth horizontally in front of my face, closed one eye and moved his head from side to side as if measuring something. Then he nodded and started hacking about a foot off the thicker end of the stave. He was obviously happy in his work because he was certainly singing tunelessly to himself as he shaved all the bark from the shorter part and carved notches all the way round the stick about an inch from either end. Now, I'm not thick, believe me, but I can't believe my own naivety; I still didn't realise what he was doing.
The tuneless drone modulated to an even more annoying aspirated, scrooping whistle and the happy craftsman didn't seem to be in the least interested in reacting to even my most poisonous remarks concerning his parentage and personal habits. Eventually, the whistling stopped and Ed held his creation up in front of my face. He seemed to be evaluating something. Then he grinned.
My skanky brother then sheathed his knife and replaced it in his day pack before collecting the freezer bag which he opened and from which he produced what looked like a leather bootlace. That's because it WAS a leather bootlace; I told you he was well prepared. Even once he'd folded the thong in half and tied it tightly into one of the grooves on the short stick, I didn't really realise what he was about. I embarked on a string of totally meaningless threats about what I'd do to him if he used "that f***ing whip" on me. Smegward's grin got broader.
"Now, I'm going to ask you to hold onto this."
"Oh yeah, and I'm really going to do that, en' I?"
"Oh, I think you will. Now, are you going to hike with shorts or without shorts?"
"You wouldn't 'king dare!"
"I'll just get my tablet." I glared at my beloved older brother. I'd often wanted to be an only child! Ed held the freshly shaved stick up to my face. THEN I realised what he was about to do. "Open up."
Realistically, I had no choice. Ed obviously would be prepared to strip me and I had no way of preventing him. OK, so he would be in real shit at home but, by the time I had told on him, pictures, and probably a video as well of my rosy cheeks, would have been enjoyed by not only people who knew me but many others who, as yet, did not as well. Ed remarked that it was much nicer now that I had stopped being abusive and that he was sure that I would understand if he took steps to secure the continuation of that benign state. Yes, I now he's a thug but he's an intelligent and articulate thug. I was screwed.
It took him very little time to tie the stick into my mouth like a horse's bit; he even told me that, to make sure I couldn't spit it out, as the leather thong stretched, he had put it into the freezer bag when it was wet! I declined his offer to tell him how clever he was.
"OK, you will let me know if it's too tight, won't you?"
"Khungh!"
"No, I think you'll find that you're the runt round here. Won't be a mo. I'll soon be ready to go. Something else to do first." Ed retrieved his knife and picked up the rest of the long pole that he'd cut from the hazel rod and cut a length off the thick end from which he shaved all the protrusions to make himself a trekking pole. Even at that stage I didn't like that look on his face when he wondered aloud whether it might not come in useful for something else later on.
"Oh well, waste not, want not." Ed retrieved the remains of the branch, inspected it and hacked about two feet from the growing tip. He stripped it of leaves and knobbly bits and gave it a few swishes in the air. That time I cottoned on to its potential use almost as soon as the job was complete. "OK, My Little Donkey, just a little something in case you need encouragement." I restrained myself from expressing my love for my big brother just in case he understood enough of whatever I would have said to give him the excuse for trying out his latest creation. I had to settle for seething with resentment.
Ed threw the remaining timber over the hedge (I don't know why), sheathed his knife and stowed it safely once more. Having fastened the switch onto the side of it, he shouldered his day pack and released me from the 4by4. Taking my lead in his left hand Ed smiled broadly, collected his trekking pole, rendered the opening five words of "I'm Happy When I'm Hiking" and pulled me after him as he set off for I knew not where.
This story was incomplete when the old site went down. I shall post about one episode a week as long as there is any interest.
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WALKIES
1 Saturday Morning
WALKIES
1 Saturday Morning
D' y' know what's worse than having a big brother who enjoys hiking? Well, how about having a big brother who enjoys hiking and is too fucking idle to carry his own gear? D' y' know what's even worse than that? Having a big brother who enjoys hiking, is too fucking idle to carry his own gear and is just about to post a video of you entertaining yourself on the bog with a certain sort of mag in your free hand! Let's face it, I wouldn't want anyone to see that vid even if the mag was a girlie one let alone one that wasn't. I was stuffed. That's how I came to be in this situation.
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It was Saturday morning and I'd just finished in the bathroom and slipped on my boxers when I heard Ed calling me. I went along the corridor and poked my head round the door to his bedroom. "Hi, Shrimp, take a look at this." At fifteen years old I'm already five foot nine and ten stone but, before I could object to his usual sobriquet for me, I saw what he was watching on his computer. "You know that web cam I bought? It works. You know, you really should be more careful when you're beating the bishop; you never know who might be spying on you."
OK, the rest of the exchange was fairly predictable and certainly does not bear reporting in delicate company but what it boiled down to was, "Watch your language, gay boy, and do what you're told if you know what's good for you". Well, gay I may be but I am not stupid so I listened very carefully to what "Smegward" had to say.
He'd decided that he fancied a stroll on the hills and he'd decided that I was going to be his native porter. He knew a trail where the passes weren't too high but one that would end with a scramble down to a pine-fringed lake. He didn't think we would meet many other hill walkers but he suggested that, if we did, I should just confirm his assertion that I had lost a bet and was paying my forfeit. He also explained the alternative outcomes to any less satisfactory encounters. Oh, and that I had better go and change my clothes.
I became suspicious. "Yeah, I laid some gear out on your bed while you were shaking hands with an old friend." I thought the accompanying hand gesture was somewhat redundant. "OK. Dismiss." I opened my mouth but was too astounded to speak. "Get a move on, Donkey Boy, or I'll just post this little - erm - entertainment now." Two seconds was a long time then but, when I saw him move his index finger theatrically towards the keyboard, I departed with great haste but very little dignity.
When I looked on the bed, I saw my walking boots, one pair of thin socks, one pair of walking socks and Ed's somewhat battered old running shorts. You know: those baggy little white ones that he had to wear to training sessions when he was a member of the cross-country club at school - NObody wears that sort of thing anymore. That was about it.
I picked up the tatty little shorts and stormed along to Ed's room. "Oi, Smegward, why no briefs? I can't wear my boxers under these things.
"Oh, bum! I thought I might have time to put captions on the video before posting it. Oh well, never mind, here we go."
"No, no, please, I'll wear them but I might pop out."
"They're lined, should keep yours up OK. Let's face it; it's not very big in any case." (I deny that, by the way.) "Any more questions?" Ed moved his finger of fate over the keyboard.
"Watch your back from now on, Smeggy."
"Ooooh, the gay boy just stamped his foot. Just go and get dressed. I want to get going - - - or shall I post this little teaser for the main event?"
I had no choice. Defeated, I returned to my own room. I wasn't looking forward to the rest of the weekend or the next year in general, really. Ed had just finished the second year of his university engineering degree and was going to be back living at home for about a year on a work placement prior to his final year.
I stripped and stepped into Ed's cast off shorts. Surely they should have been thrown out years ago. I was probably a bit slimmer than my brother had been when he last wore the embarrassing scrap of material but the tie-cord held them up OK. I didn't feel very securely contained by the lining, though. Once I had put on both pairs of socks and my lightweight boots, I was still feeling vulnerable; I really did not want to be seen out walking through our housing estate like that.
I sat on my bed waiting miserably; then I heard the call. "You ready yet, Shrimp? Don't forget to go to the bathroom and put on some of that sun-block. Use lots, we're going on a long hike. You can wear your shades and my old bush hat as well." Oh great, that completed the nerd's outfit; Ed's old bush hat was probably nearly as embarrassing a garment as his old running shorts. So, there I was: boots that, because of my lack of trousers, made me look as if I had clown feet, shorts that barely covered my arse-crack and that I was probably going to have to keep tucking my bits back into, and the world's weirdest bush hat. I really DID NOT want any of my friends (or my enemies!) to see me.
You might not credit it but there was worse to come!
Having slathered myself in factor 30, I reported to Ed's bedroom as ordered. I was obviously going to have to take his rucksack, which was sanding already packed in the corner. I knew he wouldn't have packed too much for one of us and I had a good idea which one of us that would be. At least that might keep the weight down. He had all the latest lightweight gear but I couldn't help thinking about the way an aeroplane has to carry enough fuel to carry the fuel and that pack was probably going to be considerably heavier than it would have been if Ed had packed what only he needed. I looked at the high-packed bag suspiciously. "Oh, don't worry, Shrimp, it's only about 17 kilos, I weighed it. Of course, I could always take out some of the stuff that I won't need if you ask nicely." I'm not that thick and I could guess whose things he would remove. I quite thought I might need my sleeping bag and carry mat, both of which I could see strapped onto the outside of the pack.
I awaited the order to pick up the pack but Ed had another surprise in wait. He produced what looked like an old hemp rope. "OK, Shrimp, hold your hands out like this."
"Oh, come on, you fucking bastard, you know I can't afford to escape, there's no need to tie me up."
"Oh, what naughty language. I know there's no need, but I just thought it would look good." Things were getting worse: now not only would everyone see me dressed like this and laden like a pack mule but I would be tied up like a slave as well. "Now, just keep your wrists still."
Ed had obviously been practicing. He doubled the rope, passed the bight back over the double strand and formed two loops which he slipped onto my left wrist. He pulled tight and wrapped the double strands several times round my wrist before tying off through the original bight. "OK, let's just make you comfortable." So saying, Ed took my wrist in both his hands and sort of massaged the coils until the pressure was evenly distributed. It was uncomfortable but, in truth, it wasn't as painful as you might think. With another "reminder" not to move my wrists, Ed trailed both free ends across between my arms and wrapped my right wrist several times before tying off to the linking strands. There wasn't much trailing rope but Ed bound what there was round the connecting strands. Then he massaged the coils round my right wrist.
At least he hadn't tied my arms behind me and I was sure that he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on me all the time. It would be quite easy to reach the knots on the improvised handcuffs. All I had to do was bide my time. But . . .
"OK, Donkey Boy, climb through those ropes, get those hands behind you." That wasn't good but I thought I could probably still manage to untie my cuffs when Ed wasn't looking. I sat on his bed and did as I had been told. I was still sure I could untie myself when Ed wasn't looking.
"Just never say I don't do anything to help you. Back up." Ed had picked up the 80 litre rucksack and swung it up onto his study table with all its straps unbuckled. He threaded he padded waist strap between my arms and my abdomen and buckled it before pulling it tighter than I was enjoying. "Ah, ah, ah, any more of that language and I shall have to think of something to do about it. You know the weight should be on your hips." It certainly was when Ed pulled me away from the table. The pack remained upright as he threaded the shoulder straps into place. The pack hardly sat on my shoulders at all. Careful adjustment of the clever back system soon had the straps correctly positioned and the pack standing proud of my head.
Ed manhandled me to check his work before expressing his approval. Then he took a few photos. I was stuffed, I couldn't afford to disobey him and now I couldn't even reach the knots of my cuffs or tuck myself in if I fell out of the none-too-secure integral briefs in Ed's tatty old shorts. I had no dignity left to lose and I begged Ed not to make me walk through the estate so that everyone could see me. I was suspicious when he assured me that I had nothing to worry about and that he wouldn't dream of doing so. Then he produced a length of chain.
Following a certain amount of debate, during which my contribution didn't seem to be required, my brother decided not to fasten it round my neck but to padlock it tightly round my waist just above the waist belt of the rucksack. There were about two metres of it draped down in front of me and trailing across the floor.
"OK, ready, then? Let's go, my little pack mule." So saying, Ed ran his hand along the chain starting at my waist until he had a lead about a metre long in his hand and some of the chain wrapped around it. He led me downstairs (not pleasant) and out of the house. He locked the door and we started down the drive. I tried begging once more.
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You know I said that I didn't have any dignity left to lose? Well, I must have been mistaken. I plumbed new depths of self-abasement with the flattering terms I applied to my brother as he was obviously leading me into public view. I can't even bring myself to tell you all the things I said and what I promised if only "The Mighty and Totally Compassionate Ed" would be generous enough to reconsider what he was about to subject his "humble little worm of a bother" (I think you get the idea.) to. Then he stopped well short of the gate. I thought all my toadying might have been worthwhile.
Ed felt round in the pockets of his Rohans until he found what he was looking for. We had come alongside the battered old 4by4 that he used for all sorts of purposes ranging from off-roading to bonking any girl he could seduce into it. Ed was brandishing the key. "OK, my humble little worm, climb up."
That was not going to be easy but I did try - anything rather than have to walk past people I would probably know. I put my foot in the rear step and tried to haul myself aboard but came into conflict with the rear frame and dropped to the ground again. I would obviously have to climb and crouch at the same time without landing forcibly on my face. I put my foot up again and started to push up but before I could get very far into my next attempt, Ed lifted me by the rucksack and more or less launched me into the rear of the filthy old wreck. That wasn't exactly pleasant but with the tarp in place and the tailgate raised at least I would be hidden from the gaze of anyone whom we might pass. That was one worry alleviated. Then Ed clambered in beside me.
"You know how fond I am of you, don't you?" I did not bother to respond. "Can't have you rolling around, can we? You might hurt yourself."
"Nooooo!" Ed opened the lid of one of the boxes that ran down each side of the vehicle. You know: the ones that can be used to store things in and which form gang seats once the lids are down. I really did not want to be consigned to what was basically a coffin. "Please, - Ed, - I - I promise I won't call you Smegward any more! - Honest! Please."
I saw the crocodile grin spreading across the big oaf's face. "Now, with bag - without bag? Nah, with, I think. Save time later." Then he picked me up as if he was carrying his bride across the threshold (Did I tell you he'd taken up rowing at uni?) and rolled me onto my side in the box. "Don't worry, Shrimp, the side boxes have to have holes in them or the stuff you put in them gets manky." The box was plenty long enough for me to lie full length although it was a bit of a push for width all the while I had Ed's bag on my back.
"Oh well", I thought "I can always roll over later." Then Ed reached for the chain that was still draped over the edge of the box and looped it around my left ankle after he had brought it towards my bum. Once he had padlocked it, I had only one leg left that I could straighten. I hoped the forthcoming journey was not going to be a long one.
"Sorry, Shrimp, can't have you getting out and hopping away."
"Oh, ha, ha! You know I can't bloody afford to escape. You're enjoying this, aren't you, you bastard?" Actually, the word I used was shorter than "bastard".
That grin again. "Yeaaah! Enjoy the journey." Then the lid slammed shut.
-===00000===-
I don't know how long the journey took but, however long it was, it was too long. At least Ed had not left me much room to rattle around but I was trapped on my side the whole time. Eventually the swoosh of gravel could be heard as Ed brought the ancient vehicle to a halt into what turned out to be a lay-by in a not too distant range of hills.
I squinted somewhat as Ed lifted the gang seat and allowed light into my dingy cell. "You haven't asked me if we're there yet."
"Just get me out of here; it stinks of your old socks."
"No, it doesn't, it's just where we left that load of veg. in it too long last week. Went all sludgy." I sighed thinking about what I had probably been lying on. Now I would not only look like a slave but I would stink and would probably look like Baldrick on a bad day as well.
Ed released my chained ankle and flipped me out of the box leaving me on my back on the bed of the vehicle. He jumped down, dragged me to the edge and helped me to sit up. "OK, my little donkey, down you get.” I slid myself to the ground and, impeded by the rucksack, staggered somewhat and hoped that the cramp in my left leg would subside soon.
Ed climbed back into the 4by4 to retrieve his old bush hat from the box (I had mixed feelings about that.) and his day pack and one other item from the bed of the vehicle. The day pack did not look as if it was exactly overstuffed. Having dismounted and raised the tailgate again, Smegward pulled his bush hat down tightly on my head, readjusted the backpack (Without thinking, I automatically thanked him for that.) and checked that I was still securely bound. He had no need to worry; I was!
"Just thought I ought to complete the 'gold prospector's donkey' image." So THAT was what the frying pan was for.
"Oarr, please, haven't you done enough to me already?"
Ed stopped as if considering the question. The crocodile grinned again, "Nah!", and he fastened the blackened pan into the ice-axe loop on the rucksack. I knew that every time I moved from then on, the damn thing would swing like a pendulum whenever it wasn't bashing against either my legs or the pack.
"Watch the birdie!" The evil deed was done before I could even react. Ed seemed to object to what I called him then. "That, Donkey Boy, was a VERY bad move." Without saying anything else, Ed yanked me towards the vehicle and padlocked the chain onto the rear frame of the 4by4. It was too late to avoid whatever was in store for me so I got full value out of using language of which the Vicar would certainly not approve. Ed seemed to ignore me as he went about his business.
I'll give Smegward one thing, he was certainly well prepared. He took his sharp sheath-knife (You know, the sort that all Scouts try to get Skip to let them buy when they're in a camping store.) from his day-pack along with something in a freezer bag which he left in the back of the transport. He hacked a thin, vertical branch from a nearby stooled hazel tree and ostentatiously set about his self appointed task.
Ed held the almost straight growth horizontally in front of my face, closed one eye and moved his head from side to side as if measuring something. Then he nodded and started hacking about a foot off the thicker end of the stave. He was obviously happy in his work because he was certainly singing tunelessly to himself as he shaved all the bark from the shorter part and carved notches all the way round the stick about an inch from either end. Now, I'm not thick, believe me, but I can't believe my own naivety; I still didn't realise what he was doing.
The tuneless drone modulated to an even more annoying aspirated, scrooping whistle and the happy craftsman didn't seem to be in the least interested in reacting to even my most poisonous remarks concerning his parentage and personal habits. Eventually, the whistling stopped and Ed held his creation up in front of my face. He seemed to be evaluating something. Then he grinned.
My skanky brother then sheathed his knife and replaced it in his day pack before collecting the freezer bag which he opened and from which he produced what looked like a leather bootlace. That's because it WAS a leather bootlace; I told you he was well prepared. Even once he'd folded the thong in half and tied it tightly into one of the grooves on the short stick, I didn't really realise what he was about. I embarked on a string of totally meaningless threats about what I'd do to him if he used "that f***ing whip" on me. Smegward's grin got broader.
"Now, I'm going to ask you to hold onto this."
"Oh yeah, and I'm really going to do that, en' I?"
"Oh, I think you will. Now, are you going to hike with shorts or without shorts?"
"You wouldn't 'king dare!"
"I'll just get my tablet." I glared at my beloved older brother. I'd often wanted to be an only child! Ed held the freshly shaved stick up to my face. THEN I realised what he was about to do. "Open up."
Realistically, I had no choice. Ed obviously would be prepared to strip me and I had no way of preventing him. OK, so he would be in real shit at home but, by the time I had told on him, pictures, and probably a video as well of my rosy cheeks, would have been enjoyed by not only people who knew me but many others who, as yet, did not as well. Ed remarked that it was much nicer now that I had stopped being abusive and that he was sure that I would understand if he took steps to secure the continuation of that benign state. Yes, I now he's a thug but he's an intelligent and articulate thug. I was screwed.
It took him very little time to tie the stick into my mouth like a horse's bit; he even told me that, to make sure I couldn't spit it out, as the leather thong stretched, he had put it into the freezer bag when it was wet! I declined his offer to tell him how clever he was.
"OK, you will let me know if it's too tight, won't you?"
"Khungh!"
"No, I think you'll find that you're the runt round here. Won't be a mo. I'll soon be ready to go. Something else to do first." Ed retrieved his knife and picked up the rest of the long pole that he'd cut from the hazel rod and cut a length off the thick end from which he shaved all the protrusions to make himself a trekking pole. Even at that stage I didn't like that look on his face when he wondered aloud whether it might not come in useful for something else later on.
"Oh well, waste not, want not." Ed retrieved the remains of the branch, inspected it and hacked about two feet from the growing tip. He stripped it of leaves and knobbly bits and gave it a few swishes in the air. That time I cottoned on to its potential use almost as soon as the job was complete. "OK, My Little Donkey, just a little something in case you need encouragement." I restrained myself from expressing my love for my big brother just in case he understood enough of whatever I would have said to give him the excuse for trying out his latest creation. I had to settle for seething with resentment.
Ed threw the remaining timber over the hedge (I don't know why), sheathed his knife and stowed it safely once more. Having fastened the switch onto the side of it, he shouldered his day pack and released me from the 4by4. Taking my lead in his left hand Ed smiled broadly, collected his trekking pole, rendered the opening five words of "I'm Happy When I'm Hiking" and pulled me after him as he set off for I knew not where.
TBC
