Dead Under Glass

Let's see what's happening.

At least then, we won't get a surprise.

Inside the foil lined container, at Kierkegaard's feet, distressed cries are being emitted.

The situation is this:

Three salad bowls, sealed with cling wrap, placed one on top of another.

Alexander-Retro is in the red one, at the bottom.

Alexander-Groovy is in the blue one, in the middle.

Alexander-Curly is in the burnt sienna one, on the top.

If all the salad bowls were made of the same material, the results would be different.

But the salad bowls are different.

The red bowl is melamine, the blue one is glass and the burnt sienna is stoneware ceramic.

Over the years, Gaius has acquired them, having been left him by various kind-hearted ladies, saying I'll leave you the rest of this salad.....you can give the bowl back to me next time.

And there has not been a next time.

Now, to return to the situation:

Gaius has stacked the salad bowls with the highest microplastic concentration at the bottom and the lowest at the top.

And who is at the bottom? Alexander-Retro, in the melamine bowl.

It's solid enough, but the glass bowl above him is heavy. And who is in that? Alexander-Groovy.

But we must not forget that above Alexander-Groovy is a bowl made of stoneware ceramic,

The bus has gone over a few bumps on the way but there is a hole in the road near Victor Harbour.

Bonk. Crack.

The bonk has been felt by all passengers. The crack heard by no one outside the foil lined container.

The cling wrap on the melamine bowl has collapsed and broken glass from above has sliced its way downwards.

Alexander-Retro, pierced by a shard of blue glass, emits cries of distress.

He is undoubtedly dying.

Brother! says Alexander-Groovy. Let me help you!

Too late, says Alexander-Retro. I'm dying. And I have two regrets.

What are they? asks Alexander-Groovy, who we must remember is not in a good way himself, since his salad bowl is now broken.

That I won't see the end of the experiment, says Alexander-Retro. And that no one will remember me with a poem,

I promise I will remember you with a poem, says Alexander Groovy.