The Fantastic Red Horned Mask

It is the weekend. Captain Louttit has the place to himself.

He hatches a plan to escape from the CSIRO private salt water aquarium.

But wait! Before leaving, a red mask for tonight is in order.

He gathers together large fragments of carapace, and clutching them tightly, rises to the surface.

He then clambers out of the private saltwater aquarium.

He waddles over to the communal kettle, at the end of the bench, and flicks on the switch.

Soon the water is boiling.

He drops pieces of carapace in.

Will they turn red? Well, he hopes so.

Magic! They naturally do.

Now Captain Louttit  drags himself to the cupboard and looks for appropriate tools.

Scientist always have scrapers and cutters and files.

And that's what he finds in the cupboard.

He settles down in the corner to fashion a fantastic red horned mask for tonight's Red Death Ball.

........

Arthur and Beaudelaire have gone off together somewhere.

Perhaps to find a dead fish, or bamboo sticks, or just an espresso.

Whatever the reason, Unni is alone with Camus.

He seems to be expecting that she will now wear the new hat.

She shoves it into her backpack. It immediately loses its shape.

A darkness lurks at the back of the eyes of Camus.

She remembers his novel. The knife. The blinding flash of sunlight. The random unexplained murder.

But no.

You should find out more about Dark MOFO, says Unni.

I suppose so, says Albert Camus.

Let's ask Lisa, says Unni. She's over there.

They go over to where Lisa is standing in front of a fish stall, poking knowledgeably at heaps of dead fish.

Lisa, says Unni. What exactly is MOFO?

It's our cool winter festival here in Hobart, says Lisa.  A celebration of art, food, music and film. Actually, more than cool, it's always effing freezing! I hope you've brought your warm thermals to wear under your costumes tonight.

Sounds awesome, says Unni. Are you going?

Not to the Red Death Ball, says Lisa. Two hundred and forty dollars a ticket! I don't think so. You guys are so lucky. But  hey, how come you don't know?

She looks suspiciously at Albert Camus, who affects to look like a man who is going to a Red Death Ball in full possession of the relevant information.

Oh, you do know, says Lisa. Well, guys, have fun! Sacrifice an animal for me! Ha ha! Only kidding.....

........

Red Death Ball Costumes. Sacrificial animals. Thermal undies.

It might suit Beaudelaire. But Camus can't imagine why he was invited.