The Trigger

The trigger is not long in coming. Three men stumble through the door.

Three latecomers who appear to have been drinking.

Vello, David Hume and Rabbie Burns, laughing and smelling of expensive whisky.

They look around. Why is it so quiet? Why is no one on the stage?

Evening all! says Vello, sitting down in the back row.

Apologies! says David, also sitting. We could not locate the venue. Hic!

Aye! says Rabbie. Tis true we couldna find it. But here we are now! Start the recitin'!

He sits down with a bump.

Kobo has fainted.

Young Dawkins doesn't notice, because she looks the same.

How long will the silence last? Has Kobo finished?

Ageless clambers on to the stage.

With a gentle kick he sets Kobo rocking.

Oooh, says Kobo. Where am I? Where is my beloved?

Right here, my sweetness, says Ageless. Come on down with me.

I had a vision, says Kobo. I saw him. He was so handsome. His big head, his curly hair, his straightforward eye, his trousers..... That's when I fainted.

Do not embarrass yourself, my precious clam-girl, says Ageless. In fact shut up, that's my advice. I won't tolerate a rival.

Kobo has now fully regained her senses. She stares out towards the back row where the three newcomers are sitting.

So it's one of them that Kobo is in love with!

The audience of poets turns in unison to observe the characteristics of the three drunk friends.

Not the first one, he looks too old and skinny, and too French. Not the next one, he's fat and looks like David Hume. So that only leaves the third man.

Goodness gracious. The poets can't believe it. It's Rabbie Burns, the National Poet of Scotland!

Shame on Kobo! How retro is that.