#7 The Last Treadwell

The keys were in the van so we broke in through the upstairs window. It wasn't my first choice but I lived in a second floor flat so there was little other alternative. The window lead directly into my room and we dragged the sharks limp body from there into the en suite bathroom. In hindsight dragging a gunshot victim across thick shards of smashed glass was a bad idea. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


Me and the alternative me lifted him into the bath and ran the water. Kieran went into the front room to check ceefax. He wanted to know the traffic as he had an airport run later that evening but I think he was lying. There had been two attempts on my life already and three's a charm. Or in this case, death. I needed a weapon. I had the knives but it seemed ashame to spoil them in this fashion. I wanted something that blew up. And possibly made a whistling noise. I ran into the bathroom. If 1980's family action TV had taught us anything it was how make a crude arsenal out of second hand household items. 'Shark' I said 'Shark. Talk to me'. But he wasn't talking and I knew it was too late. He was gone. But right now I had bigger fish to fry. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


I stood and turned to face the window. There he was. I was locked in a face to face stand off with the jellyfish that was trying to kill me. He had the slightest grin on his face, satisfied, but a little tired, from his efforts climbing in through the window. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little impressed. 'You are a slippery one Treadwell' he said sizing me up. 'How ironic' I answered 'when in actual fact you're the one that's slippery because you're a jellyfish and you live underwater'. If it was to come down to a battle of wits, I already had the upper hand. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


He drew his gun and fired. I moved sharply to my right and, despite my earlier reservations, seized all nine knives in my right hand and threw every one in his direction. The bullet went flashing over my left shoulder and into my bathroom wall. Each of the nine knives went passed him without him even moving a muscle. 'You have used all your weapons Treadwell, and unfortunately for you, you missed'. I returned his brashness with a double handed forearm of confidence. 'Did I?' I said. And just then the cracks began to appear in the two thousand jars of urine that were piled up against my bedroom wall. The sheer panic of what was about to happen overcame Darren and before he had any chance of escape there was an almighty explosion of glass and liquid and he was soaked through with my warm and pungent penile discharge. 'I'm melting' he screamed, 'I'm melting'. This went on for 18 minutes. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


Darren was dead. The shark was dead. There was piss all over the carpet. And Kieran was on his way to Gatwick. It was all over. I sent the alternative me to put the kettle on and I sat down next to the bath. 'Oh shark' I said tickling his fin, 'I didn't mean for you to get caught up in all of this'. Suddenly, his eyes flickered slightly. I stepped back and they did it again. His tongue came out of his mouth and desperately tried to reach the fin I'd touched. 'It's the urine' I said to myself. Without hesitation I heaved his lifeless body out of the bath and flung him on to the sodden carpet in my bedroom. He began to flash signs of life, flapping around and writhing in ecstasy. He was going to make it. And the power of my urine to bring life and death asserted itself once more. A negative consequence of all the urine is that more and more sharks were climbing in through the window and 14 were now rolling around on my bedroom floor gleefully splashing one another in a strange and potentially sexual orgy of delight. Bastards. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


I took the alternative me back to Simon. He was surprised to see us both alive and even more surprised that I was returning the knives. I hadn't mentioned that the were all covered in year old piss. 'Thank you Treadwell. You have done us a great service that the Fist will never forget. If there is anything we can ever do for you, please, do not hesitate to ask'. I smiled and thanked him. 'But seriously' he said, 'you need to say now because in a minute we are disappearing into an alternative dimension'. I was going to tell him not to worry but in the end I accepted £84 and a Pizza Express voucher. Then, without a goodbye, they both disappeared through the door. It had been a strange afternoon. But all things considered I had enough money to pay off my police fine and buy a sandwich. On my way to the police station though, I walked past a garden centre and spent all the money on seeds. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

#6 With Treadwell and guns and guns and Treadwell, hurroo, hurroo 27/06/11

I was standing outside a police station with the shark, Kieran, a set of 9 stainless steel kitchen knives presented in an oak briefcase and myself locked up, somewhere inside the building. I wanted to say something epic to rally the troops but I couldn't think of anything and missed the moment. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

The breakout idea was simple. I would go in through the front door causing mass confusion and panic. In the midst of all that Kieran would transport the shark to the cells where he would bite the guards head off, take the keys and unlock my cell. Meanwhile, I would put the 5 lessons of karate I had when I was 10 into good use and beat up anything between 15 and 45 police officers. I would then drag them to the cells two at a time and once they were all locked up I would toss their chief of police a 50 pence piece and say 'don't waste your one call on the police, chief of police'. It was no surprise at all that the plan worked perfectly. The only problem I had was that the cells had steel doors rather than bars so when I flicked the coin, it just bounced back and hit me in the knee. It hurt a little bit, but I didn't say anything. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

I decided it was best that the four of us walk slowly out of the police station. It was busy and I didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves. We left through the front door and cautiously started to make our way towards the curb so we could cross the road. I knew straight away that something wasn't right. A little girl, bouncing through the rotations of a skipping rope headed towards us full of life. Nothing about her seemed right. She was crammed into a summer dress and her pig tails looked almost like straw poking out of an ill-fitting red beret. Her skin was see through yet moist. My eyes were particularly drawn towards the gun she held in her right hand. How was she holding a gun and skipping at the same time? Why did she have so many arms? Why didn't any of her arms have fingers? From around 10 feet away, she lifted the gun and fired a single shot, right between my eyes. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

It all happened so fast. I remember the look in her eyes and the blast from the gun. I froze as it went off, realising I was about to die, here, on the side of a road, wearing no trousers. The shark had obviously recognised the girl's intentions earlier than I did. He ran towards me and screamed my name. He got it wrong but it seemed like an awkward time to correct him. My eyes were still fixed straight ahead. He managed to tackle me to the floor, doing his best to cover me completely with his own body. The bullet went straight into his back and lodged somewhere inside him rendering him unconscious. My immediate thought was 'I definitely won't mention my knee injury now'. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

'Why?' I said, crying for the second time that day and the ninth time that week. I had the shark in my arms, his blood gushing on to my naked, white legs and his eyes becoming more and more distant. 'Why would she do that?' I screamed. Kieran pointed out that it probably wasn't a little girl at all and was in fact an elaborate disguise by that Darren fellow that had made an attempt on my life earlier. What he was saying was utterly obvious and I was a little embarrassed. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

'We have to get him home, you have to transport us'. It seemed like our chances of leaving inconspicuously had evaporated. People seemed to notice that a giant jelly fish dressed as a little girl had just shot a shark in the middle of a busy high street. We also weren't helped by the wanted posters on the wall of the police station behind me that had a large, if rather blurred, picture of myself underneath the caption: 'Wanted: The No Trouser Tickler'. I resented the subjectiveness of the word 'tickle'. Apparently there was a fine line between a handshake and a tickle and at some point, I'd crossed it. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

Amongst the furore of the public and the odd lame attempt from people to catch up with Darren we slipped away. There was genuine anger from the crowd that despite all this commotion directly outside a police station there wasn't an officer in sight. I offered my opinion that they were all bastards and people's attention turned towards police incompetence rather than anything else. It was all up to me now. Would I be able to save the Shark's life? Would Darren try and kill me at my own flat? And had I left my keys in the van? Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

#5 One down: Bad ass (3,9,9) The Treadwell Mysteries 24/06/11

'... on trial for a few days. See if they really are as good as you say and if they are, you've got a deal'. Simon was annoyed about the dramatic pause I had used which had lasted a full 7 minutes. I could understand his point. He had started to do the paperwork and had also phoned his wife to say he was finished and should be back later that evening and to take the casserole out of the freezer and he'd heat it up in the microwave when he got back. Looked like the casserole would have to wait. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

Simon agreed to my proposal and was clearly confident in the quality of the knives. He was worried though that if I left it too long before my decision I'd wind up dead and be no use to him. It was clear there was only one way to save myself. I would have to kill Darren. And possibly Simon. And probably the shark. And most likely the alternative version of myself. But most importantly Darren. He was the one trying to kill me after all. I just assume that after he's out the way, I'll have a taste for killing. A bitter taste. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

The van was wrecked and I wasn't about to walk all the way home. We had to find some alternative transport. Luckily I had a contact. During my time travelling I had met a being that could transport anything he liked, as far as he liked, whenever he liked. I had met him while enjoying a beer in a pub. He sat along the bar from me, unable to complete his crossword. 21 across, 9 letters, 'State of stupor in Spanish region banning Left for a short time'. No mystery there then. On my way to the toilet I lent over, 'the answer is Catatonia'. That's how you finish a crossword thicko. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

He would help. All I had to do was the secret call. I took out my mobile and dialled. The number was 999 but upside down and back to front. Apparently Satan was going through the courts to try and take the number away from him. I prayed that that hadn't happened yet. 'Hello, this is Kieran'. Dammit I thought,  that's Satan's first name as well. 'Kieran who?' I asked hopefully. 'Kieran Jones. Who is this?' Good news at last. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

Kieran agreed to come and get us. While we were waiting for him by the side of the road I had a thought. The best way to draw in Darren would be to have me and the alternative me in the same place. He wouldn't miss an opportunity like that. We would have to make a stop off at the police station and break me out. I sure as hell wasn't paying the £16.50 bail money and if the shark had a wallet on him, I didn't want to know where he was hiding it. I had the first part of a plan, a semi reliable mode of transport and a slight urge to put some trousers on. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

#4 Billy Goat Treadwell 20/06/11

The goat looked good. Not in a gay way but in a 'I like his suit' way. Does gay happen in bestiality? Or is it all fair game? Or do beastialiters who beastile an animal of the same sex get discriminated against worse? I'll ask this goat. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


He didn't know. In fact he had a few questions of his own. Were my legs a bit out of proportion with the rest of my body? Did I really come here with a shark who had his head deep in a washing up bowl? Why was I not wearing trousers? I looked up him up and down. 'Shut up goat' I said. And with the power of Shakespeare's own tongue I had answered all three of his questions. And two of my own. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


'You have come to me Treadwell seeking answers, I am correct yes?' He had a shrill voice delivered somewhere just beneath a shout. It didn't suit his jacket and I was wondering how he had asked the previous questions without me noticing it. Perhaps he did it without talking. Perhaps we had the shining. 'You need to explain what's going on goat, there is someone trying to kill me and I don't care for it' I thrust out a pointed finger to emphasise my point. It didn't work. Simon immediately laughed at the idea of my imminent end. I didn't think it was funny for obvious reasons. 'It is not just someone trying to kill you' he said, 'it is a fate much worse than just someone. My dear Treadwell, the person trying to kill you is... Darren!' Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries. 

I had not a clue who Darren was so Simon the goat explained further. He was a man sized jelly fish trained by the government of his world to be a great assassin. His current assignment was the James Treadwell of their world who was important to the underground anti government movement. Therefore the movement, known as 'The Fist', had moved their James Treadwell to this world in order to hide him. Darren was a clever character however and had followed through the door in pursuit of his target. He was now intent on killing both Treadwells in order for there to be no mistake. It all made perfect sense. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries. 


'So why the kitchen knives?' I asked. Simon smiled at my observation. 'These are to sweeten the offer I have been authorised to make you. We would like you to come to our world, where, once there, you will be murdered by our government instead of the other James Treadwell. In return I offer you this set of 9 stainless steel kitchen knives presented in an oak briefcase'. It sounded like a terrible offer. The shark agreed. But they really were a fine collection of knives. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


Me and the shark were taking a few moments away from Simon to discuss the implications of going for the knives. The shark told me that in season 1 episode 13 of Knight Rider, Michael infiltrated the 'Corazónes de Piedras' who were dealing in the Nun X-19, a powerful new automatic assault weapon. Unfortunately he 'misplaced' the money he was to use to obtain the X-19 and all hell broke loose. This appeared to have nothing to do with our current predicament and wasted the time I had to think over my decision. The shark apologised but I don't think he meant it. There was no time. I needed to make a decision. 'Simon' I said, 'I'll take the knives...' Welcome to the Treadwell Mysteries.

#3. All roads lead to Treadwell 15/06/11

One James Treadwell locked in a police cell, another James Treadwell on the hunt for answers, a shark walking the streets with his head in a washing up bowl and the kettle boiling in the kitchen. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


Me and the shark were back in the van and driving towards an abandoned mine on the edge of town. It is where the shark had become attracted by my urination and sought me out looking for a deeper, warmer scent that I have been told I can offer. I had once tried to bottle and sell it but quickly found I had very little market, lost several thousand pounds and now have boxes of the stuff piled high in my bedroom. Suddenly, it felt like another van had shunted my right hand and sure enough, as I looked right, another van had shunted me on the right hand side. I went into a vicious spin and time travelled to a distant land only to return after a non eventful 11 months. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


The van that hit us waited for a moment before deciding to tear away into the distance. He had put a dent in my door that looked remarkably like the Virgin Mary. I had a sudden brain wave. When all this is over and I want to make some money, I should have another go at selling that piss. All this talk of pissing was making me hungry for a beer. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


The shark had lost a few inches of water from his bowl and was once again struggling to breath. He was being a real pain in the ass and wanted to talk about nothing but Knight Rider. I remember the shows premise but not individual story lines and a shark, sitting in your passenger seat, reliving every moment of season 1 is as bad as it sounds. I had concerns over whether I could walk the last 4 miles to the abandoned mine listening to the shark. I was also worried that someone might be trying to kill us, and, ultimately, whether Michael could rescue Sherry and her little brother from the Scorpion biker gang. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


We arrived at the abandoned mine in little under three minutes. Either I had drastically misjudged the distance or, during the spin we had both grown dramatically, extending each stride we took to several hundred feet. It turned out to be my lack of judgement. Or was it? Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.


All that stood waiting for us at the abandoned mine was a door, a set of kitchen knives and an overdressed goat named Simon. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

#2.Jaws 5: The Treadwell Mysteries 09/06/11

I had the shark tied to a chair in my flat. He had gone along with it at first because he seemed to think I had intentions aside from interrogation. Maybe we could be friends after all this is over but that's where I draw the line. Once he had come around to the situation he spat in my face. I was unaware fish could spit. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

Rescuing myself from the back of my van had been the easy part. For the life of me I could not remember where I had been. At the moment the shark was my only lead but he was saying nothing. I had tried water boarding him but the sick son of a bitch seemed to get a kick out of it. If I wanted him talking, I needed him on my side and that meant helping him breath. I filled my washing up bowl with lightly warm water and plunged his head inside. Now it was time to find out what the hell was going on. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

4 minutes into the interrogation, I was in the bathroom enjoying a comfort break when the police broke down my door. I was still dazed from my rescue which made my arrest even more confusing and disorientating. The police missed the shark as his head was inside the bowl. I came out of the bathroom to find myself gone again. At least this time, I had some idea where I was going. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries.

'The last thing you need is an enemy', the shark was finally talking, 'You need a partner'. Maybe my head was spinning from this whole damn situation, maybe I was concious of the smell wafting in from the bathroom, but something told me I needed to make a choice quickly. I thrust my hand into his outstretched fin. 'You've got yourself a partner'. Welcome to the Treadwell Mysteries.

#1. Where am I? What's my name? 07/06/2011

Earlier today I phoned the police regarding a missing person. The problem? The missing person was me. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries. 

Today, at 6pm a tidal wave of panic hit me. I had been missing for the past 4 hours. Not lost, missing. I desperately called the police, tears streaming down my face and high pitch cries rendering my voice inaudible, trying to explain what had happened. They bastards didn't care. 'Looks like I'll have to solve this one myself' I thought. Welcome to The Treadwell Mysteries. 

I wasn't wearing any trousers. This wasn't a mystery so I quickly put some on. First problem solved, things were looking up but I looked down. Footsteps. My footsteps. On the floor but where else would they be? I laughed for a moment but then my steely gaze returned and I chased the prints down the stairs of my building out towards my van. Something inside was moving, but what? Welcome to the Treadwell Mysteries. 

I kicked the door open, despite having the keys in my pocket. It took 9 minutes and will cost nearly £600 to repair. An old lady phoned the police and I have to take all my documentation to police station post haste. Bastards. If only there was somebody around solving real problems! Welcome to the Treadwell Mysteries. 

There I was. Bound and gagged in the back of my own van. I'd urinated, so I had either had a cup of tea some hours ago or a beer 7-10 minutes ago. I had read somewhere that urine attracted sharks and sure enough one was sat in the passenger seat. How had I got there? Was someone trying to frame me? Could I get away with not washing those trousers? I was sure as hell going to find out. Welcome to the Treadwell Mysteries.