What About The Sky?

Sugar, says Arthur.

He plonks the glass jar on the table, next to the pie.

Spoilt for choice! says Saint Méen.

Let me see, says Saint Maclou. White or brown. What is this Equal?

Equal to sugar, says Belle. But not sugar.

Does anyone want to try it? asks Saint Mée

Me, says Terence.

Saint Maclou hands Terence a sachet.

Just one lick, says Belle. Don't eat the whole thing.

Who's having pie? asks Saint Méen. Everyone? You, Arthur? 

Yes, Arthur will try it. It might soak up the cidre breton and the apple brandy.

Saint Méen cuts Arthur a slice.

Is it just potato? asks Arthur.

Everything is just potato, says Pierre-Louis.

What about the sky? asks Arthur.

I refer to this dinner, says Pierre-Louis.

Yes, says Belle. It was all potatoes, done in different ways.

If everything is a potato, says Terence, licking his sugar, is my pony a potato?

Ha ha! laughs Saint Maclou. I hope not. Imagine riding around on a potato.

Easy-peasy, says Terence.

Arthur sprinkles white sugar over his pie.

The barman at La Java said to say hello, and he's still hoping, says Arthur.

Still hoping for what? asks Saint Méen.

The gift of speech for his poupées, says Arthur. The ones that hang from the ceiling, over the bar.

Long may he continue, says Saint Méen. 

Hope is life-affirming, says Saint Maclou.

Up to a point, says Pierre-Louis. 

Perhaps we were cruel, says Saint Méen.

What's this about? asks Belle, opening a sachet of raw sugar.

We gave him to understand that we had given the gift of speech to his dolls and puppets, says Saint Maclou.

But that the gift would need time to come to fruition, says Saint Méen.

But why would it? says Belle. It worked straight away when you gave it to the carrot.

It was a carrot, says Saint Méen. Not a tourist attraction.

Yes, says Saint Maclou. Now you see our dilemma. Imagine the outcry. He would have to have taken them down.

I see, says Belle. The poupées would demand to be taken down from the ceiling.

And then where would he be? asks Saint Méen.

You could have just told him, says Belle.

We could, says Saint Maclou, but at the time, we were a bit short of money.

What about a carrot? asks Terence. That's not a potato.

It's clear Terence has not yet deconstructed the statement that everything is a potato. 

You're quite right, says Belle.

Why don't you run outside and see if you can see Madame Ponty's pony in the next field? says Saint Maclou.

Can I? asks Terence.

Yes, says Belle. But don't try and feed it.

Terence runs outside, still clutching his sachet of Equal.