Whose Would You Lick?

The crepes au chocolat have arrived at the table.

Everyone is eating again.

Except Terence who isn't allowed to.

Can I at least lick the chocolate, asks Terence.

No better not, says Belle. Whose chocolate would you lick anyway?

He could lick mine, says Sweezus. 

Now? asks Terence.

Later, says Sweezus.

Then there'll be none left, says Terence.

Yeah, says Sweezus, but I don't want you licking my chocolate before I've finished.

He could use his finger, says Gaius. 

Terence dips his finger into Sweezus's crepe au chocolat.

It turns brown.

The finger, that is.

Now he can lick it.

But what about the battery inside?

What's the matter? asks Saint Roley.

Nothing, says Terence. 

Something is, says Saint Roley. I know that face.

I might get a shock, says Terence. AND my finger's stopped glowing.

Give it to me, says Belle. I'll scrape the chocolate onto my plate.

Terence gives Belle the finger.

She starts scraping.

Little curls of chocolate drop onto her plate.

Now, says Belle. You can have these. They won't hurt you.

Terence licks the little curls of chocolate.

Will they melt on his tongue?

No, they just sit there. 

Curling.

So much for that, says Vello. Are we all done here?

No, says Gaius. Arthur hasn't presented his poem.

I wasn't going to bother, says Arthur.

You are going to bother, says Sweezus. I'm in the lead so far.

Are you? says Gaius. That's not how I see it. 

Let me be the judge, says Saint Roley.

You ARE the judge, says Denis Diderot. Although I don't see how a bird can judge poetry.

Saint Roley ignores this rude comment.

Arthur delivers his poem: Island

Resembling an island / passed by flocks of spotted birds with beaks of yellow/ I cycle on/ while in my wake drowned men sink backwards.

Woah! says Sweezus. Good one, Arthur. Drowned men sink backwards.

The cyclist as an island, says Gaius. That's just how it feels. A fine conceit, Arthur.

It looks like Arthur might have a good chance of winning.

Everyone looks at Saint Roley.

Saint Roley thinks: Birds with beaks of yellow. Did he include that because I was judging? If so why not choose orange? But perhaps I'm too harsh.

Arthur wins, says Saint Roley.