Pale Fat Good Friday Moon

Evening, at Blenheim.

The moon has come up, pale and fat.

Sweezus and Arthur are skulking behind Midge's camper.

The sounds of Beard anthems thrum through the night.

Followed by high energy Latino gritty pretty electronica and Afro Caribbean revelry.

No glass.

And no one is being a dick head.

(There's a no dick head policy at Blenheim)

Cut it off, says Sweezus.

Are you sure? says Arthur. It's not all that obvious.

It's embarrassing, says Sweezus.

He looks up at the pale fat Good Friday moon.

The pale fat Good Friday moon is immobile but he can tell it is itching to twitch.

The Good Friday moon would never allow a girl to convince him to let her pay for a hair wrap.

(The round no-hair moon)

All right, if you're certain, says Arthur, getting his Swiss army knife out.

He snips off the bright wool-wrapped strand.

Shoves it into his pocket.

Sweezus's hair.

How long does this go for? asks Sweezus.

Midge said till three, says Arthur.

Sheeez! says Sweezus. It's freakin' freezing.

We could get warm in the camper, says Arthur.

They try it. It's locked.

There you are, says Midge, appearing from Trumpet Lane, with Terence. This little fellow needs to chill out for a spell.

Her flowers are wilting, she looks frazzled.

She opens the back of the van.

I don't, says Terence. She's just mad because I was singing.

He wasn't just singing, says Midge.

Singing, says Terence. Everyone's singing.

Not what you were singing, says Midge.

Shu comes up out of the dark.

Look at this, says Shu. He holds out some notes. A handful of money.

Did you find it? asks Midge.

No I was given it, says Shu.

How come? asks Sweezus.

I was reciting, says Shu. And someone asked me if I was Cambodian. I continued reciting. And received all this money.

There is something not right with this story.

But no one perceives it.

Belle arrives, looking perky.

Until....

Sweezie! What happened to your beautiful hair wrap? Wait till Barbs sees you!

He's still got it, says Arthur. It's here for safe keeping.

He pats his shorts pocket.

Sweezus looks up at the Good Friday moon.

How cold he is, and the moon appears to be twitching.

He would kill for some chocolate.