Wait a minute, said Frog. What's to become of me?
What? said Baby Pierre. Come on!
No, said Frog. I'm worried. You're alright. You're a stone.
I am, said Baby Pierre. And I know this much. It's a terrible thing to know the future.
Why? asked Frog, settling down on the poisoned grass. Tell me why it's a terrible thing.
I will, said Baby Pierre, sitting down next to his friend. It's something I learned from Auntie Kobo.
What does Kobo know about the future? asked Frog. She's a fossilised clam!
She loves to read, said Baby Pierre. And a terrible thing happened to her last week. She started a book called The Earth, by Emile Zola. But she made the mistake of reading the introduction first.
Now I know what's going to happen, said Frog.
No you don't, said Baby Pierre. She was reading the introduction quite happily when
she suddenly found herself reading about something that happens to one of the characters, Francoise. A truly terrible thing. Her sister Lise deliberately and impulsively pushes her onto a scythe, and she dies, her belly and unborn child slit open by the blade.
Eeuuuw! said Frog. That's horrible! Why was Kobo reading a book like that?
It's a classic of French realism, you ningnong, said Baby Pierre. The point is, Auntie Kobo had to read the whole book knowing that was going to happen. And she hated it.
Frog sighed.
It was only a book, he said. That hardly equates to my existential angst. I'm going to get old and soft and die. You're not.
You are shiny and hard and green, said Baby Piere confidently. It won't happen for ages and ages.
Look again, said Frog.
Oh Sweezus! said Baby Pierre. You're going red!
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1 comment:
Well. So well Lynn. So impressingly Fun the stories with Frog and Baby Pierre. A continued script scene by scene and still seperate identity. Satire after satire and with sarcasm. Thank You for sharing so inspiringly and with Best Wishes.
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