A Dreadful Tragedy

Can I try it out first? asks Holy Spitball.

But it's tied to my leg, says Prong.

So I see, says Holy Spitball. But you could untie it.

No I couldn't, says Prong. Nor could you. It takes fingers.

All right, says Holy Spitball. Let's get this thing started.

You fly down and distract the Virgin, says Prong. When she's distracted, give me a signal.

Okay, says Holy Spitball. I'm going now. Mind my bear.

Aren't you going to take it? asks Prong.

No, it's wedged, says Holy Spitball.

Accidentally? asks Prong.

On purpose, says Holy Spitball. But you see why I'll need a rope in the future.

Not really, says Prong. 

To give it more freedom, says Holy Spitball.

Oh, yes, says Prong.

She imagines the normal bear swinging from a branch of the cypress.

A happy existence.

Keep your eyes peeled, says Holy Spitball. I'm about to descend.

He descends to the head of a lamb, near the Virgin.

Hello, Holy, says the Virgin.

Hello yourself, says Holy Spitball.

Any news from the Vuelta? asks the Virgin.

Haven't you heard? asks Holy Spitball.

No one tells me anything, says the Virgin.

Matthew Brennan has now won four stages, says Holy Spitball.

Has something happened to Tadej Pogacar? asks the Virgin.

Don't you KNOW? asks Holy Spitball. He crashed out last week. Concussion and broken clavicle.

What a dreadful tragedy! says the Virgin. I must tell Saint Joseph.

Yes, you do that, says Holy Spitball. And I'll mind your baby. Ooh, hello little fuzzball, it's me!.

Don't call him that, says the Virgin.

She gets up stiffly, and moves towards the Faith Portico, where Saint Joseph is working.

Holy Spitball gives the signal to Prong.......

Moona Moona

Unless... says Sartre.

Unless? says Prong.

We tie one end of the string to you, says Sartre. And let it out as you ascend with the baby.

Prong tries to think this plan through.

Nothing seems wrong with it. 

Okay, says Prong.

Get started! says Terence. People are coming.

A group of keen tourists are forming a short queue nearby.

Who's going to tie the string to me? asks Prong.

I'll do it, says Federico. I'm used to this sort of thing.

How so? asks Sartre.

In the theatre, says Federico. When I'm putting on plays.

I heard you were a poet, says Sartre.

That too, says Federico. 

Ballad of the Moon Moon, says Arthur. That's one of his.

Moon moon? says Terence. Why are there two moons?

Federico starts tying the string to Prong's leg.

It just sounds better, says Federico.

No it doesn't, says Terence.

In Spanish, says Federico.

Oh, says Terence. Moona moona.

Not moona moona, says Federico. Luna luna.

Baby Pierre made up a moon poem, says Terence.

How did it go? asks Federico.

Terence can't remember.

Arthur can.

O moon O moon, round and green, says Arthur.

Very nice, says Federico. 

He finishes tying the string.

Prong is now ready. She grips a baby Sylvanian bear in her beak.

Up she flies, as Federico lets the string out.

She lands on the cypress.

At last, says Holy Spitball. But what's with the string?

It's instead of the rope, says Prong. This is a delicate operation.

I see, says Holy Spitball.

But he does not see.

He had envisaged a rope to hold his bear in place.

A rope like the tail of a monkey.

A Man Is His Plan

Now we can start the rescue, says Terence. 

Is now a good time? asks Sweezus.

Yes, says Arthur. There'll be crowds later.

Yeah, but that might be better, says Sweezus.

Do you want my opinion? asks Sartre.

Is it DO IT NOW? asks Terence.

Yes, in a nutshell, says Sartre. 

What? says Terence.

The short answer, says Sartre.

But where's the nutshell? asks Terence.

I don't have a nutshell, says Sartre. The nutshell is a metaphor, for a small space.

I get it, says Terence. The small space is the bowl.

The bowl in which the baby bear is lying? asks Federico.

Not at all, says Sartre. Perhaps you'd prefer the long answer.

What's the long answer? asks Terence.

There's no reality except in action, says Sartre. Man is nothing else but his plan.

That's what we're trying to come up with, says Federico. The plan. Have you brought the equipment?

What? says Sartre.

The rope and the net, says Sweezus. You've got them.

Ah...oui, says Sartre. He reaches into his pocket and brings out a ball of string and a hairnet.

Shit, says Sweezus. They're kind of small.

All I could find at short notice, says Sartre. And the hairnet is Simone's, so it mustn't be damaged.

Where's Prong? asks Arthur.

Prong is behind Terence, awaiting instructions.

Here, says Terence. Give her a bear baby.

Federico hands Prong a bear baby.

Why are there two? asks Sartre.

Long story, says Arthur. 

How do I carry the string? asks Prong.

Has anyone got any scissors? asks Federico.

Maybe she won't need the string, says Sweezus.

But I promised it to Holy Spitball, says Prong.

Why does he want it? asks Sweezus.

To tie his normal bear to a branch of his tree, says Prong. 

So he won't need it yet, says Arthur. 

That depends, says Prong.

On? asks Sweezus. 

The distraction, says Prong. He might take his normal bear with him, but if he doesn't, it'll fall off the tree.

Wouldn't that be the perfect distraction? asks Sartre.

For him, says Terence. Not for the Virgin.

Surely a falling bear would attract her attention? says Sartre.

Terence thinks of the times when, falling down, he failed to attact her attention.

No, says Terence.

So Prong needs the string.

And they will need scissors.

He Wanted A Monkey

Prong flies down again.

How'd that go? asks Federico.

He put his bear on a branch but it kept tipping sideways, says Prong. So he said he should've asked for a monkey.

We don't have a monkey, says Terence.

No, but now he's happy keeping the bear if we leave him the rope, says Prong.

Our rope? says Terence.

We won't need it after the rescue, says Arthur. 

Is he being a lookout? asks Terence.

Even better, says Prong. He's going to fly down and distract the Virgin.

Did he say how? asks Arthur.

No, says Prong. Maybe he'll show her his bear.

That would be a bad plan, says Federico. She would look at his bear, then naturally turn to look down at her own.

Well maybe he won't do that, says Prong. 

Anything else we should know? asks Arthur.

He asked if Sartre is THE Sartre, says Prong. And I didn't know.

What's THE Sartre? asks Terence.

The philosopher, says Arthur. 

So is he? asks Terence.

You can ask him, says Arthur. He should be here any minute.

And truly, he should be here any minute.

The illuminations on the Sagrada Familia have now been turned off.

Dawn is breaking.

And two men are approaching the Nativity facade.

Hey guys! says Sweezus. We made it!

Hey, says Arthur. So did we. This is my friend Federico.

Garcia Lorca, says Federico. 

Poet! says Sweezus. Hey man, good to meet you. And this is Sartre.

Jean Paul, says Sartre.

Are you THE Sartre? asks Terence.

Who's asking? asks Sartre.

Me, says Terence. And Holy Spitball.

Sartre is taken aback. Who's Holy Spitball?

The lookout, says Terence. He wanted a monkey, but now he just wants our rope.

To hold his bear in place, says Arthur

Seems we've got stuff to catch up on, says Sweezus.

Arthur starts explaining.

Sartre listens but feels he has missed an opportunity.

What does it matter who Holy Spitball is?

He should have just told Terence that yes, he is THE Sartre.

Not THE Sartre?

Prong explains that the bear was not stolen, as such.

It's going to be paid for, says Prong.

I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, says Holy Spitball.

So are we okay? asks Prong. Will you act as a lookout?

Yes, says Holy Spitball. When do you make your move?

As soon as we get the rope and the net, says Prong.

Don't you have them? asks Holy Spitball.

They're coming from Paris, says Prong. 

You can buy nets and ropes in Barcelona, you know, says Holy Spitball.

It's not that, says Prong. 

Your choice, says Holy Spitball.

The normal bear is tipping sideways again.

Holy Spitball rights it.

Tell you what, says Holy Spitball. I could use that rope when you're finished.

Okay, says Prong. So you're keeping the bear. You don't want a monkey?

Who knows how long it will take to get a monkey? says Holy Spitball. 

You can have the rope, once I've used it, says Prong. 

Great, says Holy Spitball. So how shall we do this?

What? asks Prong.

Me being a lookout, says Holy Spitball. 

Watch the Virgin, says Prong, and send me as signal when she's distracted.

Even better, says Holy Spitball. I'll distract her myself.

What about your bear? asks Prong.

Let me deal with that, says Holy Spitball.

Okay, says Prong. When we're ready I'll fly up to you, then you fly down and distract her, and I fly down and switch baby bears.

Will you have the rope? asks Holy Spitball.

And the net, says Prong.

So now we're just waiting for the rope and net to arrive from Paris, says Holy Spitball. 

On the next train, says Prong.

Who's bringing them? asks Holy Spitball.

Sweezus and someone called Sartre, says Prong.

Not THE Sartre? says the Holy Spitball. 

But Prong, being from Australia, does not know.

Not Stolen

Prong flies back down.

Which bear is he having? asks Terence.

He chose the normal one, says Prong. 

Problem solved, says Arthur.

Except for one thing, says Federico. It hasn't been paid for.

I'll pay for it later, says Arthur.

Did you STEAL it? asks Terence.

No, says Arthur. I forgot I was holding it.

Yes, that's different, says Terence.

Shall I take this bear up to Holy Spitball? asks Prong.

Yes, says Terence. Then he'll start being our lookout.

Arthur gives the normal bear to Prong, who flies up to the cypress tree, holding it in her beak.

Hee-ooo-ah, says Prong.

Pardon? says Holy Spitball.

Ay-ih, says Prong.

Holy Spitball assumes she means take it.

He is used to such mumbles.

He takes the normal bear in his beak and tries to balance it on a branch.

It tips sideways, and is going to fall, but he saves it.

I should have asked for a monkey, says Holy Spitball.

A monkey? says Prong.

A monkey has better grip, says Holy Spitball. Longer legs. The right sort of tail.

I see, says Prong.

Where did you get it? asks Holy Spitball.

I think it came from a toyshop, says Prong/

Then perhaps you could exchange it, says Holy Spitball.

No, says Prong. We couldn't. 

Why not? asks Holy Spitball.

Because it hasn't been paid for, says Prong.

Don't tell me it's STOLEN! says Holy Spitball.

Not stolen, says Prong. 

She tries to remember how Arthur had put it.

Eat It Or Worse

 All right, she gets twins, says Arthur. 

Twins are good, says Terence. They can play with each other.

The Virgin will notice, says Prong.

She'll just think she forgot, says Terence.

Forgot she had twins? says Federico.

Yes, says Terence. But we should take them out of their packets.

I'll do it, says Federico.

He opens the packets, and extracts the tiny Sylvanian bears. 

And their handbags.

What's in them? asks Terence.

Baby things, says Arthur.

Now what? asks Federico.

We wait, says Arthur.

What for? asks Federico.

For Sweezus and Sartre, says Arthur. 

What's their part in this escapade? asks Federico.

They're bringing the rope and the net, says Terence.

What for? asks Federico.

You'll have to ask them, says Arthur. They should be here soon.

I bet I could do the rescue without the rope and the net, says Prong.

How? asks Terence.

Fly up with one baby, drop it into the bowl, and watch what happens, says Prong.

They might make friends, says Terence.

All right, fly up with two babies drop them into the bowl, watch what happens, says Prong.

They might start to fight, says Terence.

And the Virgin will think she's got triplets, says Federico.

Okay, says Prong. I won't wait, I'll pick up the one to be rescued and fly down with it.

What if it doesn't want to come? asks Federico.

That's where the net comes in useful, says Arthur.

This could all be avoided if you only replace one baby with another, says Federico.

Then we'll have a spare baby, says Prong.

I know! says Terence. Fly up and ask Holy Spitball if he wants it.

He wanted one that was different, says Prong.

Ask him if he wants the baby or the normal one, says Terence.

Yes, there's an answer for everything.

I'll do it right now, says Prong.

She flies up to Holy Spitball, who is waiting in the cypress tree.

Where is my bear? asks Holy Spitball.

A quick question, says Prong. Would you prefer a tiny one with a bag of baby things or a normal bear that's a big bigger?

What's the Virgin getting? asks Holy Spitball.

A tiny one, says Prong.

Same as my one? asks Holy Spitball.

Mm, says Prong. But you could take its shirt off.

How would that look? asks Holy Spitball. Me taking its shirt off.

Suspicious, agrees Prong. Like you were planning to eat it.

Or worse, says Holy Spitball.

Prong can't think of anything worse.

But she supposes Holy Spitball's job is to think of such things.