#serrels

It was a long journey, but finally he was home.

Another son of Scotland back in his birthing place. The air blew cold up his kilt and the sky was dim, but damned if it wasn’t good to be home.

Mark Serrels took a deep breath in, and exhaled loudly.

“I tell ye what, woman – this be the land of dreams” Mark said to his lovely wife, Heizy, whilst expanding his arms out wide, taking in the scenery.

But an old town and some broken roads is all Heizy could see, and the cold chilled her to the very core.

“Yeah, great” she said “but i swear, if you call me woman one more time, i’ll jam the next sheep we see straight up your kilt”

“Sorry, sweetheart” Mark quickly corrected “It’s tha homeland – she makes a maan do strange things” “Yeah – well remember, next time and strange things will be done to you” “Love you too” Mark said smiling

The pair walked the long streets of Haggisville, hand in hand, taking in the sites on their way to their hotel room, so they could offload their luggage. There were mighty trees in the middle of walkways, buildings hundreds of years old, and great statues that all seems to have a man in a kilt doing something horrible to and Englishman. It sent a chill down Heizys spine, but Mark beemed with glee more and more with each landmark they passed.

“Look wo- er, ah mean hunny” Mark said pointing excitedly to a dark alleyway. “‘At’s where i kicked me first Englishman – ah dhose were tha days” “Riiight.. hey do you think we could stop into that cafe? My feet are killing me and i think i need a coffee to warm me up” Heizy asked before adding so quietely only she could hear “and stop me from murdering you”

Mark looked over at the old cafe, smiled and nodded. “Sure ting, sweetheart – they make some great coffee”. Mark Rubbed his hands together “so full of grog ya Wilnae be able to see fa days”

The pair began walking over to the cafe before a deep, throaty voice stopped them in their tracks.

“McSerrels!! Ah thought ah tellt ye ne’er tae come back ‘ere again.”

“Shiet” Mark said under his breath before turning slowly.

The other man stood halfway down the street, walking slowly towards them, drawing a large sword from the scabbard at his side. He was a beast of a man, and ugly as sin. His red hair and pale skin seemed to shimmer in even the low light the day had provided. His kilt swayed in the breeze as he approached the pair, stopping a few meters away from them.

“McDougal” Mark said, a sneer on his face. “Whats a McDougal” Heizy asked, squeezing marks arm – her gaze transfixed on the stranger. Mark said nothing.

“Ye know th’ rules – thare kin ainlie be too!” The beefy man sid

“Two? What are ye talkin’ bout? What happened to one?”

“Ye ‘n’ ah baith know we cannae murdurr Sean McConnory, McSerrels – so we’ll huv tae settle fur too”

Heizy interupted, this time stepping in front of Mark for an answer “Did he just call you ‘McSerrels’ and call Sean Connory ‘Sean McConnory’? And WHY has he got a SWORD? What is this? Highlander?”

Both Mark and McDouglas burst out into thick laughter – McDouglas was the first to respond.

“Ye need tae train yer wifie better McSerrels – she seen tae mony movies. Highlanders ur fairytales. Na, lass. We be Lowlanders!”

“And the can be only one” Mark said

“Too!”

“Sorry… Two… apparently. Also, just so you know, Mc is an old word we all use, but some of us choose ta drop et when we get ta foreign lands” “What does it mean exactly?” “Fuck the English” “Of course it does…”

Mark put down his suitcases and reached into one that extraordinarily long and pulled out a sword of his own

“WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!” Heizy exclaimed, leaping back a fraction “Ma bag – of course”

Heizy rubbed her head – she was getting a tremendous headache from all the commotion and trying to work out just the hell what was going on. “ok – forget this” She said “i’m going to get my coffee and you two can sort your own crap out – but if you get killed, i swear to god i’ll be going to the Bed Bath and Beyond without you!” With that she stored off towards the coffee shop.

The two men faced each other.

“Looks like this is et then” said Mark “Aye” came the reply. “So be it”

A moment of silence before, simultaneously, the two came at each other, swords held high.

McDougal swung low, like some sweet chariot, coming forth to carry Mark home – but at the last moment Mark leaps over the blade and came around, bringing his own sword to bare. there was a mighty clang of steel as the swords colided and a distant ding-a-ling of the cafe door opening as heizy went in, muttering something under her breath about those blasted Scots.

Mark wheeled bring his sword high and was parried, but lashed out several times more – each time he was blocked by the much larger man.

“Ah see ye haven’t yet forgotten th’ wey o’ th’ Lowlander. Ahm impressed” McDougal said mockingly before backhanding Serrels with his mighty bear-like paws.

Serrels reeled and stumbled backwards. He could taste the salty-sweetness of his own blood trickling over his split lip. McDougal moved in.

“Look, over there! An Englishman walking the streets freely” Mark yelled, pointing behind McDougal. Distracted McDougal turned. “WHERE?!” The was no Englishman, but by the time the brute had realised he felt marks knee connect with his kidneys, mashing his inside.

McDougal roared in agony and spun around, his sword following in a wide arch. Mark only narrowly managed to step back, saving his head. More swings followed. McDougal was well and truly enraged. A low slice cut across Marks left thigh. His vision swam as agony flashed through his body and he kicked out at his assailant before rolling back to gain space and breath.

“That bloody hurt, you fool!” “Tis nae meant tae tickle. A’m trying tae murdurr ye, ye know. Nothin’ Personal, o’coorse” “Of course” Mark said, regaining his composure and throwing himself at his enemy.

He could feel the warm life-fluids dribbling out of the wound in his thigh as he swung high again, aiming for his foes head. Marks ferocity increased as he screamed at the top of his lungs and let out a flurry of devastating blows that wore McDougal down, eventually bringing him to his knees – still Mark dis not let up. All McDougal could do was hold up his sword in a vain attempt to fend off marks renewed attack. He could swear Marks hair burned redder than before, almost catching aflame. He could certainly see the fire in his eyes.

With one great cry and a devastating blow Mark knocked McDougals sword out of his hand, sending it scattering across the brickwork of the steet.

Mark held his sword aloft, showing no mercy. “There can be only ONE!!” Mark bellowed “Too” McDougal corected, terror in his eyes. “SHUT – UP!” Mark screamed as he brought his sword down on McDougals neck.

His head hit the floor before his body even began to sway in the breeze.

Mark was spent. He looked down at his foe and smiled. “You’ve got red on you”

With that he walked to put his sword back in his case and started liming towards the cafe to meet his wife. “I could really do with a cuppa tea” he said to himself as he shambled forwards.

Mark would enjoy the rest of his holiday, with his woman…er…wife..