#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.