The Saoi of Aosdana

A new story? I'm sure I can do that, said Samuel Beckett. I'm not a Saoi of Aosdana for nothing.

What's that? asked The VeloDrone. A type of biscuit?

No, said Beckett. It's an Irish title I was given in 1984, for achieving high distinction in the arts.
It means Wise One. It's why I wear this twist of gold around my neck.

Belle et Bonne looked unimpressed.

I knew it must be from the eighties, she remarked.

Beckett looked pained, and began to fiddle with his top button.

Anyway, said Belle et Bonne. I think it's pointless you writing the new story. You are so tied up in literature you think every word you write is precious. Look how you wouldn't even consider leaving out Simone's hat. I'll tell you what. I'll finish off the story for you.

What a good idea, said Simone. I'm all for that. Do you agree, Samuel?

Beckett looked miffed.

You win again, Simone, he said.

What's this? asked The VeloDrone.

Simone has thwarted me once before, said Beckett, darkly. In 1946 I sent a story to Sartre which he published in Les Temps Modernes. He didn't realise that it was only part one of the story. Simone refused to let him publish the second part,

Oh, why, Simone? asked The VeloDrone.

Because it would have made my little Sartre look foolish, said Simone. It has been my life's work to protect him.

Never mind all this boring ancient history! cried Belle et Bonne. Can I write part two of the story or not?

Beckett looked doubtful.

Do you think you can capture my style, Belle et Bonne? he asked.

At the drop of a hat, she replied.