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It was a simple life. For two months now he lived in the woods and woke each morning feeling awake. He slept in a small two berth tent and made coffee on a gas stove with the sunrise. He fished in the stream where he washed, picked mushrooms and berries, caught some rabbits when lucky enough. His only company was a floppy-eared nine-year hound, Rufus, the rustle of leaves and birdsong.

"How did that make you feel?"

She was shaking. Her cheek was splattered with blood and there were drops on the collar of her blouse. She was an Account Junior on Brewster's floor; this was her first month, so still virginal to GBN ways. She looked wide eyed at her fellow passengers and those innocent pupils locked with his. Damn.

Take a trip to psycho-kitsch Hollywood when exploitation auteur Russ Meyer was given cinema's golden ticket to make his gloriously camp masterpiece Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

Where better to cast demons free than atop a mountain in the most beautiful country in the world? Unfortunately, getting there was harder than he realised…

"He couldn’t stop pressing it. The simple black box with a shiny red button, small enough to hold in the hand, had the tactile addiction of a retro game controller and the power rush of an atom bomb."

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FICTION PROTECTED SPECIES REVIEW

Tag: POVERTY

10: White mischief

PROTECTED SPECIES

10: White mischief

In which Jack follows in the team’s dust to Africa. Continue reading 10: White mischief