"Well do I look like someone who participates in outdoor activities on a regular basis?" Greg asked, parading around Drew's living room in jeans and a polar-fleece top.
          "You want the truth or do you want us to lie?" Ryan mused.
          "Lie, I can't handle the truth," Greg skulked.
          "Jeez Greg, I thought you were one of those famous explorer's for a second there…boy did you have me fooled," Ryan said encouragingly. "And the truth," Greg sighed.
          "Not even close," Ryan scorned.
          Greg sulked for a millisecond and then turned to Colin.
          "So how am I suppose to afford all this outdoorsy stuff?" he asked.
          "Charge it," Colin replied, handing Greg Drew's credit card.
          "Er dude…I don't think Drew's gonna appreciate that," Greg gasped.
          "Yeah Col…I think that's going a bit far," Ryan chimed in.
          "Are you ridiculing my judgement?" Colin spat.
          "Calm down will ya," Ryan huffed.
          "I'll calm down when you learn to respect me and my baldness," Colin growled through gritted teeth as he got to his feet.
          "One more thing Col…I uh…don't know Drew's pin number," Greg said, his voice cracking. "Here," Colin spat, slapping a post-it-note on Greg's forehead. "NOW GET OUT."
          Greg jumped and then scurried out the door.

          Greg swaggered into the nearest outdoor shop and was instantly descended on by a young, fit, tanned man in shorts and a t-shirt that accentuated his pecks.
          "Hello there…can I help you?" asked the young man, giving Greg a charmingly fake smile.
          "Actually I was just looking," Greg replied.
          The young man stayed quiet for a second but didn't move, nor did his smile falter. "Don't I know you?" he eventually piped up.
          Greg laughed. "I don't think so…unless you were they guy I married in prison."
          The young man laughed. "Hey that was really funny." He then turned to help a new customer.
          "Yeah so would using you as human voodoo doll," Greg sneered, eyeing off a collection of pocketknives.

          A short while later Greg was checking out the climbing rope. He had no idea about any of it and was getting frustrated with his own incompetence. His mood was darkened more by the return of the young man.
          "Ahh looking for some climbing rope?" perked the young man.
          "How observant of you, I'm surprised you're not manager," Greg sarced.
          "Where are you planning to go climbing?" the young man asked, still giggling at Greg.
          "K2…some climbing buddies and I are heading out there," Greg smarmed.
          "Really…I climbed her last year…which face you climbing?" inquired the young man.
          "The…north face…of course," Greg babbled.
          "Man, I had two friends who died on there…" the young man sighed.
          "That's nice…you save it for show and tell…and get me some rope now," Greg perked.
          "What thickness?" grumbled the young man.
          Greg looked blankly at the rope. "Thickness, smickness…. I'll just have a couple of hundred metres of the purple stuff," he eventually smirked.
          The young man looked at Greg strangely.
          It took nearly an hour for Greg to escape the clutches of the young man. To make his story convincing he'd had to buy a pair of crampons, two thick jackets, a fold down tent, and a minus 15 sleeping bag. Drew was going to kill him, the climbing essentials had cost enough.
          Greg had piled the gear into his car and was about to head back to Drew's (or Operation Resurrection HQ as Colin was calling it) when he noticed an army surplus store and decided it'd be worth a look.
          Inside the store smelt horribly musty and a very un-Greg place to hang out.
          "Can I help you?" asked a large man in a camouflage t-shirt.
          "Just browsing your fabulous array of products," Greg smiled.
          "Yeah…you ex-army?" asked the large man.
          Greg almost burst out laughing. "Not even close."
          "Me…I was in Nam," grumbled the big man.
          Greg would have done anything for the balls to turn and run. He pondered if perhaps he'd actually walked straight into hell. It was all Colin's fault, if Colin hadn't turned into a freak he wouldn't have been there playing psychologist to an obviously disturbed Vietnam Vet.
          Greg grabbed a copy of 'Soldier of Fortune' and pretended to read it to distract himself from the large man's ranting.
          He really wanted to know how long Colin had been possessed by the "Whose Line" devil…maybe he was a late bloomer, Greg thought.
          Several hours later he returned to Drew's and fell in through the front door. The gear he'd bought spilled everywhere.
          "What the hell have you bought?" Ryan gasped.
          "I had to by extra to sound convincing," Greg panted under the weight of the tent.
          "What are these?" Brad asked, grabbing one of four camouflage-covered pouches from the floor.
          "Night goggles," Greg replied.
          "Ohh," Brad giggled, putting on a pair of the goggles.
          He attempted to walk but ended up tripping over the couch and landing in Richard's lap.
          "Well done Greg…you've outdone yourself," Colin smiled.
          "Thankyou sir," Greg perked as Colin walked away. "Sir…I called him sir…Christ I need a drink."