Your Sinclair1st February 1988
Published in Your Sinclair #26
When we offered Rachael J Smith an Outing, she said goody! But when we locked her Inside an old, dark house she was driven to The Edge of distraction!
Eeek - sneak thief Smiffy here, trapped and unhappy. Not that I've been banged up (in gaol, you pervy little pustule) No, I just saw all these milk bottles and newspapers piled up outside the big house on the hill you know, the one which used to be owned by the late, local, loony professor, and I couldn't resist it.
I'm a member of my neighbourhood watch, see (I watch out for places where the occupants are away). So I thought I'd check the front door and gor blimey (as me old friend Mr Knuckles used to say) whatdya know - it was open. What else could a buxom burglar do? I broke an entry.And that's when strange things started to happen - like the door swinging shut and staying that way! All the windows were locked too. Seems like old man Crutcher (Rest In Pieces - what a messy explosion that was!) had crutched me good. But that wasn't the biggest surprise. Blow me down, guv, if the house wasn't empty after all.
Yes, I strayed into Lady C's bedroom and what do I see but the old bat herself, flittering around and waiting for me. "At last," she cried "a member of the criminal classes There's never one around when you need one."
Then she went on to explain why shed lured me into her horrible house. Seems her stiffy spouse had odd ideas about security and instead of consigning her sparklers to the local Barclays he'd hidden them around the mansion. Only problem was he'd popped his clogs before telling her where they were stowed.
"So I thought who better to find them than a burglar?" her ladyship summed up. There are twelve diamonds and limited time so you'd better get cracking - as in safe-cracking." "And what if I say no?" I asked, thinking that NULFI (the National Union of Light- Fingered Individuals) wouldn't be too keen on this sort of non-profitmaking activity. "In that case I'll feed you to the budgie," she smiled.
Feed me to the budgie?!! Listen, anything less savage than an alsatian don't scare me, so... Argh! The ex-Prof was into genetic Meccano and built himself a killer canary and some monstrous mice to guard his crumbling pile.
The thing that really sets Inside Outing apart is that, as well as providing enough nightmares to keep mappers awake for ages, there are also fiendish problems inside the rooms. Imagine searching your bedroom for a lost pin it could be in a drawer, under a plate, behind a picture. Anywhere!