Whirling Heavenwards

I need him to answer more questions, says the Spanish policeman.

He needs to ask you more questions, says Bowl.

I heard him, says Saint Elias.

He heard you, says Bowl.

Ask him, says Terence.

Which him? asks the policeman.

Come on, man, says Sartre. Ask your question. 

Yes, says Federico. We're all listening.

It's true. Even Arthur, Sweezus and Toyshop are listening.

Very well, says the policeman. First question. What do you mean by delirium?

Runny poo, says Terence.

I'm not asking you, says the policeman.

And you're wrong anyway, says Sweezus. 

Sorry, says Terence.

He was asking me, says Saint Elias. 

Yes, says Bowl. What's your answer?

By delirium I mean a fit of holy madness, says Saint Elias.

He means holy madness, says Bowl.

A fit of, says Terence,

I heard that, says the policeman. Ask him if he's had them before.

Have you had them before? asks Bowl.

Not for some time, says Saint Elias. The delirium would descend upon me moments before I slew a false prophet. 

Hmmm, says the policeman. Any other times?

Any other times? asks Bowl.

Yes, says Saint Elias. When whirling heavenwards on my chariot of fire.

Fairly natural, says Sweezus.

Why is this even relevant? asks Sartre. Surely all you need to determine is that a state of delirium is compatible with giving his sword up willingly.

Simone cames back with a plate of mini goat's cheese and spinach pies, and a large glass of water.

The Spanish policeman is glad of the interruption.