Beautiful Wanton Bizarre

Gaius and Schopenhauer are cycling back to Hobart.

Here they are now.

It is early evening and the outdoor markets are closed. The lights are coming on in the cafes. Dead leaves litter the pavement. There's a wintry chill in the air.

They sit down on a park bench. Schopenhauer closes his eyes.

Gaius fiddles about with his phone.

A black shape flits past, behind them.

It is Captain Louttit, escaped from his prison. He wears a black cloak, made of something he found in a cupboard, tied round his neck with red string.

On his face he wears a fantastic horned mask made of his own discarded carapace, made blood red by boiling.

He is heading for Hobart Town Hall.

........

At the Town Hall, a masked crowd is gathering, dressed in delirious fancies and madman fashions, beautiful, wanton, bizarre.

They show their tickets, and flow through the door, into the seven chambers.

Each chamber is decorated in a single colour. Blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet......and the last room is black.

A band plays peculiar music. Ding-ding-dong-yeeee.  A clock strikes. The band stops.  The striking ends. The band plays. Ding-dong-yeeee.

There are cocktails, wines, aperitifs, sacrificial offerings.

And Red Death is stalking the corridors.

.......

Camus thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. What's he supposed to do next?

Where is Charles Beaudelaire? Where is Arthur Rimbaud?

He sits on a twisted canapé in the black room, next to Unni.

Go on, urges Unni. Do your thing.

Camus pulls the Red Death costume down over his trench coat, and adjusts his red pitted plague mask.

He gets up and performs a dispirited plod round the room.

A bizarrely dressed couple come in, and stare at him.

She: That's the Red Death.

He: Fuck is it?

She: Did you not read the......geez, Henry, you're hopeless.

He: Let's get some more of that cheese.

.........

Captain Louttit is enjoying the evening.

He slips under tables and chairs. His black cloak hides his soft body.

His red horned mask hides his expression of glee.

Suddenly, he is whisked up into the ether, by a black leather gloved hand, and placed on a stone slab.

The clock strikes. The music stops. A knife flashes.

Then laughter. And more ding-ding-yeee.