The white stone lion risks a question.
And BIT?
Did you hear something? asks Gaius, who has pointlessly resumed scraping the hole.
I believe it came from the lion, says Griff. It said BIT. But it seemed like a question.
Gaius stops scraping.
The sound of tinkling laughter is heard from the depths of the snake hole.
Laughter, and the tearing of wrappings.
Gaius straightens and directly addresses the lion.
You have a question? I too have a question.
Me first, says the lion. it's about the meaning of Dominabitur.
Let him be ruled, says Gaius. Or let it be ruled. Interesting question.
That wasn't the question, says the lion.
Ask your question then, lion.
Henry Wilkinson, says the lion. That is my name. It is on the inscription.
That is the name of the sculptor, says Gaius. I see you don't know your Latin.
I thought I did, says not-Henry-Wilkinson.
Question! barks Griff.
BIT? says not-Henry-Wilkinson. It's not about biting?
Afraid not, says Gaius. It's just a verb ending, denoting a mood.
Not-Henry-Wilkinson paws his red ball, in sorrow or anger.
Hard to tell which.
It's something he does when he's unable to control his feelings.
Which happens when undisciplined children try to sit on him. Or the Eskimo curlew comes by.
And explains why the red ball reminds the Barbados racer of chipped nail polish.
Inside her hole, the Barbados racer is entertaining her guest.
They have discovered a mutual interest in Picasso.
Two Women Running On A Beach is my favourite, says Kobo.
Snap! Mine too, says the Barbados racer. I often dream of doing it.
So do I, says Kobo.
Hear that? says the Barbados racer. That scratching?
That's probably Gaius, says Kobo.
It sounds like Henry Wilkinson, pawing, says the Barbados racer. Drives me mental!
Why do you stay? asks Kobo.
My babies are here, says the Barbados racer. But hush, it's a secret.
I won't tell, says Kobo. May I see them?
They're just eggs at the moment, says the Barbados racer.
She indicates a dark corner.
Kobo envisions the eggs.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
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