Ungrateful Curses

Eglise de Saint Méen.

Arthur enters through the back door, with Saint Roley.

Excellent timing, says Méen.

Arthur knows it. The universe knows it too.

He peers down at the beetle, laid out on a cushion.

One head, one thorax, one abdomen, attached. Six legs, two attached, and four separate.

Terence stomps in, with Baldy.

Dead, says Terence. Probably perished.

Too bad, says Baldy.

No, says Méen. He is alive and recoverable. Arthur will do it.

He will. He takes out the box of Bozanimos. And the nail scissors.

Choose, says Arthur. Leopard, crocodile...?

The beetle's eyes glitter with hatred. He says nothing.

Speech will follow, says Méen. Let Terence choose.

I should choose, says Baldy. I lost my bird.

It's my beetle, says Terence.

What if you both choose the same thing? says Arthur.

The universe approves of the question.

Crocodile! say Terence and Baldy at once.

The beetle quivers with anger. He would much prefer leopard.

But the universe doesn't please everyone.

Arthur takes out a crocodile sticking plaster, and snips it into strips with the nail scissors.

Well done! says Méen. You have young eyes. I could never have done that.

Maclou comes in. All going well?

Yes, says Méen. Arthur is here now. He is fixing the beetle.

How do you feel about that, Saint Roley? asks Maclou.

Good, says Saint Roley. He is Terence's beetle, and a beetle of Terence's is a beetle of mine.

Argh! That does not please the beetle.

But the universe rules.

Méen holds a broken piece of beetle leg in place, while Arthur winds a thin strip of crocodile sticking plaster around it, thus joining it on again. Four times they repeat it.

The beetle finds this ultra-annoying. He can't wait  for the promised gift of speech.

Spit! He spits beetle-blood onto Arthur's fingers.

All done? says Maclou.

Done, says Arthur, wiping his face with his blood soaked fingers.

Yay! says Terence. He's fixed. Run, beetle!

Wait, says Méen. Maclou and I will give him the gift of speech first.

The saints take off their beanies. Buzz, buzz! Beeeep!

They touch the head of the beetle. Speak, brother beetle.

The universe answers: This shall be.

The beetle speaks: A CURSE ON YOU AND YOUR OFFSPRING! A CURSE ON YOUR CHURCH! A CURSE ON YOUR HISTORY! A CURSE ON YOUR COUNTRY OF ORIGIN!

Steady on, says Méen. You are speaking of Wales.

OKAY! says the beetle. NOT WALES. A CURSE ON THE LEOPARD!

Crocodile, says Arthur.

AND ON YOU! adds the beetle, unkindly.