Resembling Flies

Midday approaches.

Arthur has been entertaining the crocodile with poetry.

There is only one Carved Cloud
Yet she dreads the spring, blowing cold in the palace
When her husband, a knight of the Golden Tortoise
Will leave her bed to be early at court.

That's rather good, says the Crocodile. I wonder how one becomes a knight of the Golden Tortoise?

It's not about that, says Arthur. It's about Carved Cloud, dreading the spring, like I dread midday.

More fool you for reminding me, says the Crocodile. Is it midday?

Not yet, says Arthur.

So entertain me, says the crocodile.

Okay, says Arthur. This is from the Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge. All animals are divided into fourteen categories.

1. Those that belong to the emperor.

Are you Chinese? asks the crocodile.

French, says Arthur. I have a friend, Sikong Shu, a Middle Tang poet.

Never heard of him, says the crocodile. Continue.

2. Embalmed ones, says Arthur.

3. Those that are trained.

4. Suckling pigs.

5. Mermaids.

Stop! says the crocodile. What sort of list is this?

A fantastic one, says Arthur. Made up by an Argentinian writer.

The world contains more than the Embley River, I see, says the crocodile.

Yes, says Arthur. But today the world is coming to you, like flies in the distance.

What? asks the crocodile.

Number 14, says Arthur. Those that resemble flies in the distance.

I know all there is to know about flies, says the crocodile, and no other animals resemble them.

Look over there, says Arthur. He points towards the distance.

The crocodile looks.

Sweezus, Terence and Gloria are approaching.

Only Gloria resembles a fly, in any way.

Ding! It is midday.

The crocodile stiffens. At last his delivery is here.

Yo bro! says Sweezus, squelching through mud to the log where Arthur is sitting.

Fuck, man! Did he bite you?

No, says Arthur. I fell against a tree. We've been talking poetry. The crocodile's into it.

Boys! Boys! says Gloria. Talk to the crocodile. Don't ignore him!

Good day, crocodile, says Sweezus. I'm Sweezus. This is Gloria, and the little dude here is Terence.

I know him, says the crocodile. The infant who promised me my shoes. Greetings Terence. If I approve of the shoes, I shall grant you a new name.

I don't want a new name, says Terence.

Hush, says Gloria. It's an honour.

What new name is it? asks Terence.

Carved Cloud, says the crocodile.

Urk! Terence hates it.