Whitetrash wheeled his crippled friend who, although totally dependent, accepted the aid as his God-given right with the humility of a spoilt child, barking out last-minute directions towards a mysterious destination that remained hitherto unknown. All he knew was they were off to meet a very special individual who was in need of their help as a matter of grave urgency. The search went on well into the twilight as they arrived at the deserted desolation of a riverside building site. Jimmy grunted and groaned as the tired old wheelchair hobbled over irregular ground and broken rock and finally came to rest before a giant of a man slumped over the wheel of a disused digger, his shiny shaven scalp resting on thick forearms, his broad dark shoulders merging with the fading light. Upon Jimmy’s orders, following faithfully his enigmatic protocol but not yet knowing exactly why, Whitetrash stood to his left and slowly dropped to his knees. With this he was duly informed, after a lifetime oblivious to the fact that such a title could even exist, that he found himself now in the presence of the rightful King of the World.
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