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Twist's Guide to the Pickpocket Gang's in London

by Amber

Pages 2 and 3 of 8

Twist's Guide to the Pickpocket Gang's in London!
By Amber
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Oliver was seated in a cold,grubby room the walls and ceiling was caked gravel grey gunk, a room that no living being would ever wish to be. He sat and thought and stared around the room, looking for a possible escape route, then he wept 'till his eyes were red and puffy. That night,he sobbed himself to sleep, his dreams were snippets of the thing he dreaded, the hanging.He saw the crowds. He saw the of rope that was to be fastened to his little scrawny neck,he saw his old protectress, her raven like beady eyes - penetrating into his collective mind - cold and merciless.
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Page 1
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The next day, a short dwarf like man summon the master, Mr limbkins to his attention and struck up a conversation,
"I wish to acquire the so called Oliver twist." Said the mysterious man poshly.
"As you wish, would you like to see him? "Questioned Mr limbkins.
"Why are yes, definitely." Said the man. The master turned and barked an order to Mr bumble,he bowed his head.
"As you wish sir." Mr bumble said with mock politeness. He marched up to Oliver's prison like room, grabbed by the scruff of his neck and shock was painted all over his face.
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page 2
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Mr Limbkins positively been at the jangle sound that the coins made, that the man handed over. The man, who introduced himself to Oliver as the artful dodger, lead Oliver to the train station. They sneaked on to the platform when they found a hiding spot. Then the artful dodger pointed and spoke in a whisper,
"Pickpocket that man over there." He pointed with a long pale finger. Oliver nodded after The Artful dodger had described what to do,he edged forward and reached out with his short skinny arms to pick the man with the flame coloured hair's pocket then the man turned and grabbed his wrist,put his finger to his lips then beckoned to The Artful dodger.
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"My name is Fagin,I am your boss now, you do exactly as I say, okay."Oliver nodded his little head then Fagin motioned with his fingers to follow and climbed into the coal trailer.The Artful dodger followed and finally, so did Oliver and then the train trundled slowly towards London.When they arrived Fagin shouted and waved his arms wildly and four filthy and said their names,
"I'm Nifty Nick."
"I'm Swift Sam."
"I'm Ghost."
"I'm Nobody."They said after each other.
"Welcome to London." They spoke as one.Leading Oliver away.
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Oliver was given a tour around London which was punctuated by the boys giving a running commentary.
"Hide Park is normally full of riches to pickpocket." Commented ghost, before running off to pickpocket a man in a posh suit, he ran back and had a handful of crowns and shillings in his hand.
"Now you try." Swift Sam said.
"Okay."Oliver whispered back and rushed off to pickpocket a man with a large black silk top hat and returned to the boys with a hand full of glittery silver coins. Slowly, the days and weeks went by. Pickpocketing was easy and the money always brought plenty of food to the den where they slept and ate. At night, all the boys huddled together for warmth.
page 5
Years later, Oliver was strolling around London and following behind him was a truck load of new recruits when he saw a familiar beefy face that drove around in a shiny new motorcar, heading towards the Royal Albert Hall, Oliver knew what he wanted to do, he chased after it the boys pursued the car it looked very odd to the other folk they passed, all of a sudden they came to a halt in front of the hall; Oliver sauntered up behind him and reached into Mr bumble's pocket and pulled out: three crowns five shillings and 4 1/2 pennies then retreated and viewed from a safe distance, the security guard and Mr Bumble have a right old skirmish. On the way back the recruits giggled all the way to the den. Fagin commanded Oliver to him and announced
"You me boy, are my second in command." Oliver lived out the rest of his life with the gang until he was old and wrinkled.
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THE END
This story continues from the point that Oliver is either going to be hung or sold for a fiver.
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