The Feminist Clam

Ageless flicks the brick coloured tea towel aside, revealing the shimmering skirt and spotted veil of a lady.

Cunégonde! says Sweezus.

Candide! says Belle.

She steps out onto the grass, avoiding the cardboard drawbridge.

They embrace.

I thought you had been ravished and disembowelled, says Candide. 

People don't always die of those mishaps, says Cunégonde.

Ninety percent of the audience do not find this funny.

They look sideways at one another, raising their eyebrows.

It's a joke, says Cunégonde, addressing the audience. No one survives being disembowelled.

We know that, says the irritating person in the front row. But what about being ravished?

This is a play, says Cunégonde. Terrible things happen to everyone. Not just me. The old woman here lost her right buttock. Would you like to know how? It was sliced off and eaten by soldiers.

Enough! cries Captain Baudin. The play will continue.

What are you doing here, my lady? asks Sweezus.

It's a long story, says Cunégonde. My parents and brother were killed by Bulgars. I was taken by their captain, and made to wash his shirts. After three months he sold me to Don Issachar the court banker, who brought me here to Lisbon. One day the Grand Inquisitor saw me at Mass, and threatened Don Issachar with an auto-da-fé unless he would share me. So now I belong to Don Issachar on Mondays, Wednesdays and Sabbath days, and the Inquisitor the rest of the week, although there's an ongoing dispute about Saturdays.

One realises this is shocking to modern sensibilities, says Captain Baudin. But such were the times.

You can talk! (This comes from Ageless's left buttock).

Both Ageless and Captain Baudin look startled.

Tell them about you and Mary Beckwith! continues Ageless's left buttock.

Dear lady, says Captain Baudin. This is neither the time or place.

If not now, when? asks Kobo.

The long hook comes out from behind the flimsy curtain, and drags Ageless and Kobo towards it.

I'll leave you two lovers to get re-acquainted, says Ageless, disappearing.

Well done, Ageless, says Vello. Now Kobo, what was that about Mary Beckwith?

But Kobo is not going to reveal details about Captain Baudin and Mary Beckwith in a private meeting with Vello.

She remains tight-lipped, a fossilised clam.