A few minutes! said Beckett. Is that all you think it takes to come up with a piece of highbrow art?
I am young, said Belle et Bonne. I write whatever comes into my head. Don't worry.
Done! she pronounced, after three minutes of solid typing. Would you all like to hear it?
And she began to read:
Part Two- A Romance.
Stop right there! said Beckett. A Romance! What the devil? I don't write Romance!
You do, said Belle and Bonne, and she went on reading:
It struck me suddenly that I had a choice. I was careering down a county lane on my bicycle not slowing although I knew there was a corner coming up. What if, I thought, although I am not the sort of person who generally thinks what if. What if, to speed up the story, I slow down? This may be the very action that prevents me from colliding with a woman who is riding her own bicycle on a trajectory towards me. It could be that, in the circumstances, we might stop, and greet one another. I might say, what might I say, what might I not say? I can be very charming when I like. And so can she. How beautiful she is. She is not of course wearing a hat. Her long brown hair will be escaping delightfully in curling tendrils, from a bun. We may then decide to change direction and travel togther to the nearest village, to have some lunch. She will smile and show me her white unbroken teeth.
Well, what do you think?
Oh bravo! cried Simone. I love it! What do you think, Samuel?
Not bad, said Beckett, not bad at all, young Belle et Bonne. I have no objection to a well-made pastiche.
Nor I, said The VeloDrone. Let's all go out to lunch.
Yes, said Beckett, and I'll pay, he added, looking at Simone.
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