Two Deaths As If Nothing Has Happened

Captain Louttit is placed on a silver tray, reserved for sacrificial animals.

What just happened? he cries, to the endangered quoll lying beside him.

The endangered quoll raises its mask.

Nothing, says the endangered quoll. It's just a party.

Can we go now? asks Captain Louttit.

Not till they bring out the poached hearts and kidneys, says the endangered quoll.

Hell's maritime bells! exclaims Captain Louttit.

Only kidding, grins the endangered quoll.

The endangered quoll rolls over to the edge of the silver tray and drops off gracefully.

Captain Louttit does the same.

........

Camus has quit the twisted canapé in the black room, leaving Unni alone there.

The Red Death stalks the corridors.

People in their Gothic costumes draw back fearfully.

Ooh! The Red Death! Is it catching?

A tall man in a dark cloak spiked with silver studs and a mask made of broken glass fragments approaches.

Aah! Prince Prospero, perhaps he will slay the Red Death, and save everyone in the abbey (or Hobart Town Hall).

He draws a serrated steel knife from under his dark studded cloak.

(Sharp Gothic intakes of breath are sucked into the lungs of the Gothic observers. Uuuh! Uuuh!)

Shooong!

He plunges the shining knife into the costume of Albert Camus.

Woooouuufffff. The costume of Albert Camus collapses to the Town Hall carpet, (woven lovingly by local artisans).

Gothic couples crowd forward gingerly. The Red Death is.... dead?

Someone bravely lifts the pitted red plague mask from the face of the dead one.

Let's see his face! Let's all see it!

But amazingly, unless you have read the Poe story, in which case you know it, there is no one behind the mask, or inside the costume. No one at all.

How is it done?

It is only too easy in fiction.

 ........

Arthur has finally found Unni in the black room.

Here she is, still sitting on the twisted canapé, fingering her ipod.

Arthur! says Unni.

How did you know it was me? asks Arthur.

The red beret, says Unni. You've cut eye holes. That's such a lame costume.

You missed the dénouement, says Arthur. Beaudelaire slew the Red Death. The Red Death appeared to be real, then it wasn't. It was merely a symbol.

No it wasn't, says Unni. It was Albert Camus.

No one knows that, says Arthur.

He does, says Unni. We'd better find him.

They leave the black room.

......

Camus is sitting on a green canapé in the green room, recovering.

Beaudelaire walks in, as if nothing has happened.

Espèce de con! growls Camus.