----- part two -----

My fathers best friend Alistair and his son Freddie had only been staying with me for two days and already my life had been turned upside down.

Before I go into those details, let me first describe these two "characters". First, Alistair Macleod is an extremely well spoken and articulate elderly gentleman, very dignified looking whose constant companion is a "walking stick" which he appears to use as a weapon or a cattle-prod against anything and anyone who may disagree with him. He calls it his "Walkin' & Talkin' stick" and it clearly lives up to it's name.

As for his son Little Freddie, let me just say he is the largest human being I have ever met. He stands approximately 6'10 and must weigh in around 400 pounds. With his shaved head and muscular build, he is to say the least, a very intimidating presence. He is referred to as "Little Freddie" since apparently his older brother Lonnie, is one inch taller in height to this monster and weighs in around the same.

Freddie has a very likable and easy going nature, if you are in his good books, although he does seem to be somewhat "slow-witted" in general and requires continual direction from his father, whom he dotes on constantly.

I can see why Freddie is working in the his fathers business, the private Security and Bodyguard Service, as I cannot imagine him being suitable for anything else aside from perhaps professional wrestling.

Both of these "gentleman" use a lot of Scottish slang which I am totally ignorant to, so my Dad who is from Aberdeen, is continually telling me what they are talking about and literally interpreting a great deal of the conversation, which seems to be primarily on the subjects of woman, gambling, food and alcoholic beverages.

Little Freddie misinterpreted this practise as me being somewhat deaf and whenever he would talk to me he would speak very slow and raise his voice quite loud. None of us including myself, bothered to tell him any different.

My Dad had initially given me $500.00 just to keep the two of them "fed and watered" as he put it, which meant my refrigerator was packed to the brim with both booze and food, but I noticed that the alcohol was always a more popular choice than the food. As old Alistair put it "Liquid over Solid every time" as he grabbed yet another drink. Whenever I would offer to get him another beverage or top up the one he had, the "Walkin' & Talkin' stick" would be jabbed into Little Freddie's guts with a snide comment such as "Are ye takin' notes, ya great Lummox, this is how ya should treat yer auld Dad".

I did not know what a "Great Lummox" was, but I do not think it was too complimentary by the pain shown on Little Freddie's face. Before I could figure it out, my own father called me a "Choob" and demanded that I get him a refill as well. Sometimes it is better to be ignorant of these things, I reckoned.

I really had no problem with my guests as weekend drinking is expected. But after two days and my work week had begun, I noticed their boozing and partying continued whether I was present or not. In order to help my Dad entertain them, I had switched my work shift to begin at noon however this did not seem to be adequate as the "boys" would start drinking very early and were visibly impaired by 10 AM each morning. I did not comment on this activity as my Dad would generally show up around 11 AM every morning and take them out, which was either to the pool hall, horse races or the local Legion for even more drinks & shuffleboard.

The three of them were having a fantastic time while my life continued to be considerably "on edge". My boss was pissing me off since our newest project at work was under funded and I was apparently expected to do two jobs. I was still rather upset over finding out my girlfriend Amy was still married and definitely very concerned that her soon to be ex-husband wanted to "Beat the Hell out of me".

I was continually looking over my shoulder for this !@!@&^*@ and knew that "Psycho Johnny" was very close when I found both of my rear tires slashed when I came out to my car on Tuesday morning. Like "SCREW YOU" if you are going to beat me up just do it and get it over...this psychological crap doesn't cut it"

Actually it did, I was now very unnerved. I had never experienced this feeling and it wasn't good. This combined with the lack of sleep that my "guests" had caused with their late night drinking and carousing made my nerves to be totally frayed. I was becoming a mess.

As the week progressed, there were a few "calls & hang-ups" on my cell phone which got me even more agitated and jumpy. I couldn't sleep and my guests were becoming more out of control. I watched one afternoon as Little Freddie picked up two annoying drunken Junkies who were hanging out in the ally, threw them in the garbage bin and closed the lid and began pounding on it with my baseball bat. This was Freddie's entertainment. When he finally finished he returned back to my apartment looking very relaxed and quite pleased with himself.

My buildings Superintendent was Mr. Harris, a no-nonsense ex-US Marine Colonel who had no friends and would bark out orders to all of the tenants. No one dared question the Colonel let alone talk with him. He had been up to my apartment twice so far regarding the rising noise level. The first time I answered the door and apologized to Mr. Harris reassuring him it would never happen again and the second time old Alistair went to the door and stepped out into the hallway to speak privately with the gentleman.

Shortly after that I found him and Alistair laughing hysterically in my living room when I arrived home on Wednesday evening. Both of them were very drunk and Freddie was no where to be found. Apparently they had sent the "Bas" out for a pizza and were waiting for him to return. My Dad was already asleep on the couch, it was 9:00 PM.

So things were ok for everyone except me....my nerves were shot. Shot until everything happened, that is. Everything went into motion early Saturday morning.

Dad called around 8AM and sounded like he was in a panic. "Son, I need to see you right away. Please get yourself over here now".

I was rather worried by this as I knew his heart was not in the best shape and his voice told me that things were quite urgent. I told him I would be there immediately.

"Let me speak with Alistair" is all he said as I handed over the phone.

As I was rushing out the door, I heard Alistair saying "Let me handle this, Simon. Not to worry"

I arrived at my folks house and my Mom looked at me rather oddly. "You're visiting here quite early on a Saturday morning, what's the occasion?" She told me she had not seen Dad for the last couple of hours since he was out in the garage. I ran out to see him, he was pacing back & forth nervously.

"Are you OK, Dad" I asked cautiously.

Dad saw me & immediately seemed to relax before my eyes.

"Er, yes Son...I am fine but this bloody garden doesn't look to be in very good shape at all. Do you mind digging it up for me", he asked.

My Dad would never ask me for help digging up his beloved garden, I knew something was on his mind but he appeared to be "beating about the bush". His stall tactic was extremely obvious but I was totally unaware of why he wanted me to dig his stupid garden at 8:30 in the morning after a night of drinking. I thought it best to let him get to the point in his own way & time.

For the next two hours I dug up the back garden hoping that Dad would let me know what the "Hell" was going on. As he bitched and complained about both my work ethic as well as the quality of my digging, I knew something was up. Finally after a couple of hours the phone rang and I heard Dad say "Thank you Alistair, I will see you shortly"

Once he hung up the telephone he told me what "a poor job I had one", and advised I can stop work now since he would have to re-do the whole thing anyway. Now this was more like the Dad I knew. He then explained that this whole mess was a diversion only to get me out of the house.

I returned home to my apartment with Dad and as I opened the door was greeted with a huge blood stain in my front doorway.

"What the Hell", is all I could say.

Old Alistair immediately apologized "I am so sorry we did'nae have this cleaned up before you returned". He looked quite despondent at the fact.

"You and Simon must think we are very unprofessional in our chosen trade. I told that lay-a-boot Freddie ta put a tarp down but the Numptie forgoot." Freddie just looked down at the stain appearing quite embarrassed and guilty.

My Dad started laughing and advised me of what happened. Apparently Amy had come running over early this morning and told my Dad that her ex-husband Johnny was going to be "paying me a visit" right away and I was in grave danger. Once Dad knew the full story and as Psycho & dangerous that Johnny was, he knew that he must intervene, which was to remove me from the situation.

"You probably thought you could hit him with a board or a bloody bat and everything would be ok", Dad said. He knew me too damn well.

Dad continued "I knew Alistair and Freddie could easily handle this situation, so my only issue was to remove you from the equation - which I did".

Freddie spoke up then and said "Ya, the wee Bufty kept falling agin me fist", he laughed, "aboot 40 times".

Old Alistair put it in real talk when he advised that Johnny's groin had continually fell against his ""Walkin' & Talkin' stick""

Alistair advised for me "Not to be upset" because Mr. Harris was on his way up to the apartment with his steam-cleaner to remove Johnny's offensive blood from my front doorway carpet.

"I guarantee you he will no trouble ye agin", Alistair announced proudly.

I was so appreciative and exhausted from the Hell of the past week that I hugged both him and Freddie warmly.

Dad finally interjected that the "Bufty convention was over for one day" and some real boozin and celebrating was in order. I was more than happy to indulge !

We all sat down and over drinks Freddie loudly explained that after "Psycho Johnny" showed up at my apartment and had his little accident that he carried him downstairs and "put him by the bin".

"Mr. Harris called the "wee Numpty" a ambulance and I come back here, just so am naw involved like"

Alistair and my father were laughing hysterically at this and I sat there as Freddie repeated his story yelling in my ear so I could hear him properly. Apparently after the beating he and Alistair gave to Johnny in my apartment, he carried the bleeding body downstairs and put it out in the ally beside the garbage bins. They then somehow involved Mr. Harris to call an ambulance for Johnny and just say that he had found him in the alley lying there, so neither of them would be associated in this unpleasant activity.

This was a rather hilarious story but I recalled my mothers words to describe Alistair and his gang were "a bad lot without conscience". I now see how she formulated her opinion. It would appear that you want to stay on the good side of these individuals, which now includes my father. I didn't care though as these folks had solved my problem and I was very grateful to them all.

As a sign of my gratitude, I offered to take them all out for a big lunch to the best Prime Rib & Steak House in Calgary or anywhere else they would like, their choice.

A few hours later I found myself sitting in the Legion, eating pickled eggs and chicken fingers with Freddie, Alistair, Dad and Mr. Harris. This was all of their idea of a great time so I obliged since they had just solved my most pressing and dangerous problem.

Sadly however, there was still more drama to come.