Good In General

It's not far to the café.

Prong leads the way.

Sartre cycles, with the box under his arm. 

Saint Elias, Toyshop and Bowl, in his trouser pocket, bounce up and down.

Saint Elias feels he is getting a headache. and is glad when they stop.

Satre locks his bike up outside, and enters the café.

It's a tapas bar and the counter is piled high with tapas.

He looks for the others.

Mon petit! shouts Simone. Here we are!

He goes over to a cramped corner table.

Arthur and Federico are drinking black coffees.

 Sweezus is eating gambas al ajillo with his fingers.

Try a shrimp, says Sweezus. 

Or one of these broccoli flans, with manchego cheese, says Simone.

Wait a moment, says Sartre. I need to empty my pocket before I sit down.

He extracts Bowl and Toyshop, and places them next to Terence.

Finally Saint Elias.

You had him in your pocket upside down! says Simone.

I didn't think it would matter, says Sartre.  

It seems disrepectful, says Simone. 

I brought his box, says Sartre, but I left it outside.

Why? asks Simone.

I didn't want to look like a delivery person, says Sartre.

With a saint box! laughs Simone.

Three garlic shrimps left, says Sweezus. D'you want one? 

Sartre takes one, and eats it. Delicious.

What else would you like? asks Simone.

What else is good? asks Sartre.

Ask Arthur and Federico, says Simone. By now they've tried everything.

Sartre looks at Arthur.

What? asks Arthur.

What's good? asks Sartre.

To eat or in general? asks Arthur.

To eat, says Sartre. 

The duck one and the salmon one, and the chorizo, says Arthur.

And the jamón ibérico ones, says Federico. 

And this broccoli cheese flan, says Simone.

I'll try one of everything, says Sartre.

Simone goes up to the counter to order.

Finished the blog post? asks Sweezus.

No, says Sartre. I was held up by a question on bear diseases.

Yeah? says Sweezus. How come?

The bears asked me, says Sartre.

Are they sick? asks Terence.

Ask them, says Sartre.

Are you guys sick? asks Terence.

No, says Bowl. We wanted to be patron saints of bears, but now we think bears don't deserve it.

Why don't they? aks Terence.

Because they eat infected rodents, says Toyshop.

Shit, says Sweezus. How come there are any bears left then?

They don't all eat infected rodents, says Federico. Some of them eat honey.

That's what I thought, says Sartre.

Maybe you're both thinking of Winnie the Pooh, says Arthur.

Maybe they are.

Simone comes back with a plate.

Then We Are Not Happy

Sartre can't remember where the others had said they were going.

A café nearby. Which café?

Where is Prong when you need her?

He'll have to cycle up and down the local streets, looking.

And what to do with the box?

He doesn't have a back pannier.

He will have to ride with the box tucked under his arm.

He hopes it isn't illegal.

And perhaps he should make sure the box contents are secure before starting.

He takes the lid off, to check.

Saint Elias lies wedged at the bottom. Feet at one end. At the other, his pointing finger.

He won't be moving.

But the bears are so small and one is quite precious. 

Which one of you is the one that we rescued? asks Sartre.

It was me, answers Bowl.

I'm going to look for a café, says Sartre. And I'll have to bring you. 

Thank you, says Bowl. Will we be joining the others?

Yes, says Sartre. If I can locate the café. I don't suppose you heard a mention of which one it was?

No, says Bowl. We were talking about bear diseases.

Don't remind me, says Sartre. Are you happy to remain in the box? I'll be cycling.

Do you have a back pannier with a clip? asks Bowl.

No, says Sartre. Your box would have to go under my arm.

Then we are not happy, says Bowl.

I was only thinking of you, says Sartre. Not the others.

We stick together, says Bowl. 

Saint Elias is touched upon hearing this answer from Bowl.

In his turbulent life, he had not stuck together with anyone, and look where it got him.

I could put you all in one of my my pockets, says Sartre. You would go up and down.

That sounds like fun! says Toyshop.

Why would we go up and down? asks Bowl.

Saint Elias is glad Bowl has asked, because he doesn't know either.

You would be in one of my my trouser pockets, says Sartre. And my legs will go up and down.

Who wants to? asks Bowl. 

Me! says Toyshop.

Saint Elias, being longer, is not sure. What if he falls out of the pocket?

But Sartre is already lifting him out of the box.

Stuffing him into his trouser pocket, head first.

Followed by Toyshop and Bowl.

He is just mounting his bicycle, when Prong appears.

Everyone's waiting for you, says Prong.

Lead the way, says Sartre.

What about the box? asks Prong. You can't leave it behind.

The bears and the saint are in my trouser pocket, says Sartre.

Why not in the box? asks Prong.

To avoid them being jumbled, says Sartre.

Fair enough, agrees Prong. But you still ought to bring it.

Sartre knows Prong is right. To leave it behind would be littering.

And they might need it later,

I would carry it, says Prong, but it's too big for me to carry it safely.

I'll do it, says Sartre. 

If nothing else, the story will look good in his blog.

Hunger Is a Test

Sartre goes back to his blog post. Where was he up to? 

Ah, yes.

He had been making a joke, but wasn't sure how best to put it.

The saint's pointing finger turned out to be pointless. 

Or:

The purchase of a saint with a pointing finger turned out to be pointless.

The latter version more accurate, but too wordy.

Jokes! Not worth the effort.

He deletes both versions and continues.

The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can join the others at the café.

Or...

He could join them now. 

The question of bear diseases has broken his concentration.

Carrion. Infected rodents. And small mammals.

He had thought bears ate honey.

Bowl had thought the same.

He has told Saint Elias and Toyshop what Sartre said about bear diseases.

They get roundworms from eating digusting things, says Bowl.

Serves them right, says Saint Elias.

But they might not know any better, says Toyshop.

YOU seem to know that eating those things is disgusting, says Saint Elias.

We have never been hungry, says Toyshop.

Never, says Bowl. Have you ever been hungry?

Me? asks Saint Elias. When I was in the desert I was always hungry.

So hungry you would have eaten ANYTHING? asks Bowl?

Hunger is a test! says Saint Elias.

What of? asks Bowl.

A test of faith, says Saint Elias.

In what? asks Toyshop. 

That something will turn up, says Saint Elias.

And did it? asks Bowl.

Yes, offerings, says Saint Elias. 

To you? asks Bowl.

Not exactly to me, says Saint Elias. But once I had slain the false prophets, there were pickings.

Bowl and Toyshop are impressed. 

Perhaps bears need to learn this.

But teaching bears about killing false prophets is probably beyond them.

Sartre comes over, and picks up the box.

He places the lid on.

Where are we going? asks Bowl.

But Sartre has not heard the question.

Not Knowing v Knowing

Prong deposits Bowl in Saint Elias's box.

You're back! says Toyshop. What was it like?

Big, says Bowl. 

That's a terrible description, says Toyshop.

How was the lighting? asks Saint Elias.

Bowl hadn't particularly noticed the lighting.

Bur if he closes his eyes ...

He has retained an impression.

Blue on one side and orange on the other, says Bowl. And light brown in the middle.

Light brown in the middle? says Saint Elias.

It sounds nice, says Toyshop. Light brown is the colour of bears.

Not all bears, says Saint Elias. They can be black, white or dark brown.

What diseases do they get? asks Toyshop.

I told you, I don't know, says Saint Elias.

I wasn't asking you, says Toyshop.

Me? says Bowl. How should I know?

I thought you might have heard prayers for miracle cures when you lived in the Virgin's bowl, says Toyshop.

Not for bears, says Bowl. Why are you asking?

We could be patron saints of bears, says Toyshop. If we knew their diseases.

It can't be that easy, says Bowl.

I suppose not, says Toyshop.

Don't give up boys, says Saint Elias. Why don't you think up a plan?

Bowl has an idea straight away. 

He stands up in the box. 

But he's too low to see over the side.

He climbs up on Saint Elias's pointing finger.

He peers over the edge of the box.

Where is Terence? Where is Sweezus? Where is Prong? Where is Simone?

The only person he can see is Sartre, busy typing away on his phone.

Hey! shouts Bowl. Where is everyone?

Sartre looks up from his typing.

They went to a café, says Sartre. Is there a problem?

What diseases do bears get? asks Bowl.

Sartre did not expect to be asked such a question.

Are you feeling unwell? asks Sartre. 

No, says Bowl. It's a general question.

Sartre wonders if the answer to this general question could find a place in his blog.

He thinks not.

But now he'll be plagued by not knowing the answer.

And the answer won't be hard to find. 

What diseases do bears get? he types.

Oops! Not here. 

He deletes the question.

Goes out. Asks the search engine:

What diseases do bears get?

He expects to learn they get bear influenza, or piles.

But no! Their most common disease is roundworms.

From eating infected rodents, small mammals and carrion.

Hmm.

Bowl may not like this.

He tells him anyway.

Invisible Strings

Bowl is now inside the basilica.

Amazed at how large it appears.

It seemed smaller when he lived on the outside.

He stands under the parachuting Jesus, wondering.

A parachute?

Signifying a downward trajectory?

Can that be right?

He hears a couple of humans debating.

One thinks it's a jellyfish.

The other questions why Jesus would be crucified under a jellyfish.

Bowl wonders that too.

Perhaps thinks Bowl, it is neither a parachute nor a jellyfish, but a floating canopy lifting him skyward on invisible strings.

He turns, to go and look elsewhere, at other things.

One of the humans almost trips over him, because he is small.

Oh look! says the human. Someone's lost their toy bear.

She picks him up.

A Sylvanian bear! I used to collect these!

What will you do with it? asks her partner.

Take it to Lost Property, I suppose, says the collector. I can't just leave it here.

Bowl is in danger of ending up in Lost Property.

But Prong has been watching.

She intervenes now.

She flies down from the ledge of a stained glass window, and lands on a pew.

She squawks to attract the collector's attention.

A parrot! says the collector.

A messenger! says Prong.

When a parrot flies down inside the basilica, and claims to be a messenger, a crowd quickly gathers.

What is the message? asks someone.

The message is for the lady who picked up the toy bear, says Prong.

That's me, says the collector. I wasn't intending to keep it.

We know! says Prong. It is our fault for losing it.

Here, says the collector, holding Bowl out to Prong.

Blessings upon you! says Prong.

Bowl is impressed by Prong's performance. Calling herself we, and giving blessings.

Prong takes hold of Bowl by his tiny tee shirt, and flies with him to the exit.

What just happened? asks the collector. Did anyone film it?

Of course.

Quite a few people did.

Prayers That Float In And Out

So how does it work? asks Toyshop?

You have to become a saint first, says Saint Elias.

How? asks Toyshop.

I believe it's harder these days, says Saint Elias. In my day I simply went about slaying false prophets.

What can a bear do? asks Toyshop.

You could try doing miracle cures, says Saint Elias.

Okay, says Toyshop. Of other bears, or what?

Other bears I suppose, says Saint Elias.

And how do you do miracle cures? asks Toyshop.

That is your problem, says Saint Elias. I don't do them myself.

What do you do? asks Toyshop.

Droughts and famine, says Saint Elias. Protecting against them.

Sounds easier than miracle cures, says Toyshop.

That is debatable, says Saint Elias. What diseases do bears get?

I don't know, says Toyshop. 

Mange, probably, says Saint Elias. Teeth falling out.

Toyshop is unconvinced. There must be worse things.

I'll ask Bowl, says Toyshop. He'll probably know.

Why do you think that? asks Saint Elias.

He was in the Virgin's bowl as a replacement, says Toyshop. He was in it for years.

You don't say! says Saint Elias. 

Yes, he must have learned about all kinds of diseases, says Toyshop.

No doubt, says Saint Elias. Many prayers must have floated into and out of his head.

That's a nice way of putting it, says Toyshop.

In fact, your friend Bowl is a far better candidate for sainthood than you are, says Saint Elias.

Oh, says Toyshop.

Don't despair, says Saint Elias. See how things go. Bowl may end up in Lost Property.

Yes, he may. 

And Toyshop half hopes that he will.

Am I Depicted?

Saint Elias looks sideways at Toyshop.

Toyshop looks directly at him.

Hrumph! says Saint Elias, again.

I know why you're hrumphing, says Toyshop.

You do, do you? says Saint Elias. 

They took your sword, says Toyshop. 

I shouldn't have let it go, says Saint Elias.

Same with my handbag, says Toyshop.

What is a handbag? asks Saint Elias.

A bag you hold in your hand, says Toyshop. You keep things inside it.

What things? asks Saint Elias.

Any things. I had a drink bottle, a notebook and a tiny pencil, says Toyshop.

Those are strange things, says Saint Elias.

I think they were for bear care, says Toyshop. But I never made it.

Certain people bought you, and stripped you of your equipment, says Saint Elias. The same happened to me.

What are you pointing at? asks Toyshop.

Does it matter now? asks Saint Elias.

Yes. Don't give up, says Toyshop.

You gave up, says Saint Elias. I was listening.

I gave up waiting to go into the basilica, says Toyshop. My friend Bowl went in.

You should have gone in, says Saint Elias.

I didn't want to end up in Lost Property, says Toyshop.

I would have risked it, says Saint Elias.

Why? asks Toyshop. 

To see the inside, says Saint Elias. To see if I'm depicted.

Are you famous? asks Toyshop.

Famous enough to be a souvenir icon, says Saint Elias. But am I famous enough to be depicted in there?

We can ask Bowl when he comes out, says Toyshop.

If he's not stuck in Lost Property, says Saint Elias.

And if he's noticed, says Toyshop. He wouldn't be looking for you in particular.

He would surely notice a man being whirled up to the heavens on a chariot of fire, says Saint Elias.

Is that you? asks Toyshop.

Yes, says Saint Elias. That is me. It's the reason I became the patron saint of pilots.

Wow! says Toyshop. I'd love to be the patron saint of something.

How about bears? asks Saint Elias.

Bears! Perfect! thinks Toyshop. I'll pick his brains to find out how it works.