A Subsequent Pickle

Right, says Vello. I think we've rehearsed enough scenes for today.

Can we run through the shipwreck again? asks Sweezus.

If you do it without using my desk, says Vello. 

But I have to fall into the sea, says Sweezus.

So do I, says Arthur.

Improvise, says Vello. And quietly. I need to come up with a poem.

For the sailor? asks Denis.

Yes, for the sailor, says Vello.

He drags his chair back to his desk, sets up his laptop, and stares at the screen.

What's a good poem for a sailor?

Should it be seductive? No. The sailor has already paid the girl for her favours.

The important thing is that Hedley should like it. And also his mother.

Having trouble? asks David.

Yes, David, says Vello. Are you busy?

Not at the moment, says David. 

This poem I'm writing, says Vello. It needs to suit too many people.

Including Hedley's mother, says David. 

They both stare at Vello's blank screen.

I've got it! says David. She won't object to Coleridge.

The Rime!  says Vello. 

The Rime, says David. Now, how does it go?

Neither of them remember, except for the albatross.

David calls it up on his phone:

It is an ancient mariner, And he stoppeth one of three, By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

Perfect.

That's one problem solved.

Meanwhile Sweezus, Gaius, Denis and Arthur are standing on the prop box, tightly packed.

Who falls in first? asks Sweezus.

Me, says Arthur.

He falls backwards from the box to the floor.

Crack! Lucky he lives a charmed life.

You're supposed to be dangling, says Sweezus.

I can't dangle from the prop box, says Arthur.

Sweezus pulls him back onto the prop box and falls in himself.

That's me, drowned, says Sweezus, rolling away. 

Now the ship splits in two, says Gaius. 

Arthur, Denis and Gaius try various means of making that seem to happen.

Sweezus rolls into the corner where Terence and Ageless are working on the potato.

The paint has now dried.

Creating a subsequent pickle.