Tiny Sacrifice

Griff and Mastigo are deep in negotiation.

Two eggs for the name of the beach, wheedles Griff.

I only have seven, says Mastigo. Maybe I don't need the name of the beach.

Oh, you need it, says Griff. She's a party girl, your Barbados racer.

As if he would know.

But it is working.

One egg, says Mastigo. My final offer.

We'll take it says Gaius.

Mastigo re-enters the snake hole.

Looks at his babies.

Which one?

....

Do you have a tissue? asks Gaius.

A tissue, says Griff. Why? Are you weeping?

No, I'm not weeping, says Gaius. What makes you think that?

I know, says not-Henry Wilkinson. He's weeping with remorse, for causing the death of a baby.

Perhaps he would be, if he were, says Griff. He claims he isn't. So why the need for a tissue?

To wrap the egg in, says Gaius. Do you expect me to shove it carelessly into my pocket? I'm not heartless.

Noble thinking, says Griff. I applaud you. Have this handkerchief. I've only used one corner. That one.

Contamination, says Gaius. May affect DNA. Put the handkerchief away, Griff.

While you've got it out, says not-Henry Wilkinson, would you do me a favour? Wipe the chocolate off my ball. I'm having a paint job.

Not before time, says Griff.

He licks a clean corner of his handkerchief to wet it, rubs at the chocolate. Curved pieces drop onto the grass.

Mastigo emerges with his sickliest baby.

They aren't to know.

Here, says Mastigo. This is Tiny Sacrifice. Treat him well. Now, at which beach is my Tangerine cavorting?

The beach opposite the Waves Resort Hotel, says Griff, receiving Tiny Sacrifice greedily.

Mastigo shoots off down Gun Hill.

Cavorting, says not-Henry Wilkinson. He certainly has got the wind up.

Let me see the egg, says Gaius.

Griff hands Tiny Sacrifice to Gaius.

Tiny Sacrifice lies in the palm of his hand. Gaius feels Tiny Sacrifice pulsing.

We must keep him warm, says Gaius. Beggars can't be choosers. Give me the handkerchief.

Griff gives him the handkerchief, now stained with both snot and dark chocolate.

Gaius wraps Tiny Sacrifice in the swaddle, and shoves it into his pocket.

Through his soft porous egg shell, Tiny Sacrifice sniffs warm snot and chocolate.

Tiny Sacrifice has never felt so cherished.