A face appears in the Ball.
Slicked hair, nineteen twenties style, skin with a greenish pallor.
Sweezus sees it.
He turns, but no one is there.
Shit, says Sweezus, something's disturbing the universe.
It always is, says Arthur.
No, like, ... look, says Sweezus.
Arthur looks at the face. It's like a face he has recently seen.
How do you find it? asks the face.
What? asks Arthur.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, says the face.
Good in parts, says Arthur.
The face disappears, not liking the answer.
Man, says Sweezus. That was crazy. Who was that guy?
Arthur shows him the photo of T S Eliot on the back cover of his acquired book.
T S Eliot, says Sweezus. Except his face looked heaps green.
Wonder if he knew who I was? says Arthur.
Yeah, like, a fellow poet, says Sweezus.
Mm, says Arthur.
Or someone who didn't pay for the book, says Sweezus.
Why would he care? asks Arthur.
I guess he wouldn't, says Sweezus. Too bad he's gone.
He looks around, scanning the Mall, in case T S Eliot is lurking somewhere, perhaps near the fountain.
Instead he sees Terence.
Terence is far from the Balls. He is close to the fountain.
Here! says Sweezus shoving the flyers at Arthur. Hand these out! I'll be back in a minute.
He heads up the Mall to where Terence has now reached the fountain.
Terence hoists himself onto the edge of the fountain.
He appears to be clutching a peach.
He opens his mouth. Lifts the peach to it.
And bites a chunk off.
We all know what that means.
No comments:
Post a Comment